An Emerald Desire
by Sierra-Jae
Summary: When Emma and Will travel to Ireland together, will they be able to control the urges they have been surpressing for three years? Will they want to?
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Please note the following: I do not live in Ireland, am not Irish, nor have I ever visited Ireland, so if my depiction is incorrect in anyway, it is purely based on information I have researched and images I have viewed.**

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He was there when she got the call.

It was during second period and her cell phone vibrated madly in her purse below her desk.

She murmured something about forgetting turn it off and Will watched her from his seat the chair opposite her desk, taking her in.

She had always been stunning, but now Emma simply looked healthier. The dark circles that she had always attempted to cover each morning with concealer had disappeared. Her hair was longer and the waves of her hair more natural. And for the first time, Will knew without a doubt that she was really happy and comfortable in her own skin.

He listened to her phone call, they way she spoke. Emma was so incredibly professional.

"Yes, I remember," Emma nodded seriously and Will wondered if he should leave to give her some privacy. Yes, he decided. He had to move. Perhaps she had left her cell phone switched on purposely. Maybe she was waiting for a call from her therapist. What if she was dating someone?

That thought had Will standing and making his way to her glass door quick smart. He didn't want to listen to her talk to another Carl. That would be a nightmare. He was running out of time. He had to make a move soon. She _had _signed the annulment papers five months ago.

Her rushed tone stopped Will from stepped over the threshold of her office and out into the hallway.

"Are you serious? You're not joking?" Emma's voice rang out.

Will turned abruptly as Emma whispered, "Oh my God."

He tried to examine her body language to find out what was wrong. She looked excited because she was doing that adorable hand tap. Each time her fingers hit the desk, Will's grin widened. No, he didn't think there was any problem of a bad nature. She was getting good news.

When she hung up, her features had calmed, the blush of excitement paling from her cheeks.

"What happened, Em?"

It was in the most casual of tones that Emma replied, "Umm...I just won a trip to Ireland."

Will's lips parted in shock as Emma captured her bottom lip between her teeth.

His eyes widened, he shook his head, and he hated the thought that she would be leaving. "Are you kidding? That's fantastic!" And it was. They lived in Lima. It didn't get more exciting than the annual Christmas tree lighting outside city hall in December. "You know, you hear about these things but you never think anyone actually wins!"

Emma nodded, looking down at her day planner. "Yeah..."

"Ahh, Em! That's so-"

"It's for two," Emma interrupted as she glanced up at Will, the volume of her sweet voice louder than usual. When she realised, a blush warmed her cheeks. And then the whole experience really began.

"Would you, umm...would you like to come to Ireland?"

Will blinked twice, his eyes wide and startled. Would he like to go to Ireland? The furthest he had been on a trip had been to New York. Interstate.

"Em, maybe you should ask someone else." He couldn't tell if she looked offended or apprehensive. "What about your Mom?"

Emma shook her head softly, letting her gaze fall back down again as her fingers lined up her textbooks against the corner of the desk.

"My mom refuses to leave home. She has this irrational fear that she will die in another country and we'll just leave her there. She's very American."

The room was raced with silence- the uncomfortable kind when neither person knows what to say.

"Come on, Will," Emma whispered tenderly. "You'd be doing me a favour."

He grinned. God she was so delicate and welcoming.

"I think you'd be the one doing me the favour, Em." He was so in love with her. "I'd love to."

Her smile almost reached her ears and she began to shake her head in disbelief. Soon, her fingers came to rest upon her lips as she giggled. He starred out her office window as she starred at Will, both of their faces lit in excitement and wonder. Will let go of his bottom lip and stood up to pace the floor before Emma's desk. They would be alone in another country. Just the two of them.

"This is unbelievable!" Will gasped as he crossed his arms across his chest and stood mindlessly in the middle of the room.

Emma lifted herself from her chair, her mind racing with all of the information she knew about the prize win. Twenty one days. A hire car. Organised accommodation. The rest was up to them. She would have to draw up an itinerary.

She was happy for herself, glad she had won herself such a wonderful treat. But Will was the biggest history buff she knew. Over the summer, Emma had spent more than enough time with Will, which usually meant watching the history channel, and often times, repeated documentaries. She knew that he would be bursting with excitement. She enjoyed thrilling him.

"I haven't done anything this spontaneous since Vegas."

He turned to face her, her smile wide and her features glowing, yet her words were littered with sadness.

Will was beyond enthused. He was going to learn so much and see so many wonderful places and buildings and artworks, but the experience would be far greater. He was going with his best friend, and he was going to make sure she had the time of her life.

The both stood there not knowing what to say or do. Scenarios ran through each of their minds; little images of themselves they hoped for. Will raised his hand to sweep his fingers through his hair as his fogged mind tried to register everything. He had so many questions to ask. When were they leaving, how long would they be gone for? What was the weather like in Ireland?

When the bell rang, Will couldn't help himself. She looked so excited and he was a mess of happiness that he just gathered her into his arms and squealed in the most masculine way possible. Emma held on, laughing and subtly digging her fingernails into Will's shoulder blades as she kept him near.

As students passed by Emma's office on their way to class, raising eyebrows at the two teachers who were almost groping each other in the middle of the school day, neither payed attention.

This was an opportunity they were going to hang on to.

**AN**_**:**__ Hello, hello! I hope everybody enjoyed this little introductory chapter to 'An Emerald Desire'. It's going to heat up! As always, to those who read and review, you keep me interested, so thank you very much. Happy reading!_


	2. Chapter 2

It all happened very quickly from the day they found out they Emma had won to the day they hopped in the taxi for Lima Airport.

On Friday evening they drove to the largest bookstore in town and spent hours flicking through endless travel guides in an attempt to find just one which seemed to include everything they needed. They stood together in the travel section for forty-five minutes before Will quickly eliminated six of the seven books in Emma's hold and promised that they had made the right decision.

They sorted out their passports and had them ready in nine days, and while Will researched routes to take across the country and different attractions he desperately wanted to see, Emma wrote lists. Will received new lists each day. Sometimes they were simple lists placed on his desk when he was teaching. Other times, they were lists Emma expected Will to have trouble understanding, so she spent lunchtimes lecturing him on topics like why it was important to pour Lubriderm into smaller, separate containers rather than to bring the whole bottle.

Until they packed their bags into the taxi in her driveway on the morning they left, Emma had been on edge. As soon as she was seated in the car next to Will, her anxieties seemed to float into thin air, and she finally relaxed as best she could.

Will had bought a new camera, and it was like the third wheel. He wanted to take photos of everything, and he was incredibly pedantic about caring for the camera. He took a photo of the taxi that drove them to Lima airport. He snapped away at signs that pointed to Lima airport. He even took photos of their suitcases on the side walk of the terminal.

"Em, just stop for a second," Will called as he dragged his suitcase behind hers.

Emma stopped in her tracks and spun around, breathing in the last of the Ohioan air they would inhale in the next month. "What's wrong?"

Will grinned. "Nothing. I just want you to go and stand under the sign."

Emma scrunched her features up as she looked around curiously.

"Which sign?"

"The Lima airport sign."

Emma raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

Will's smile was so wide that Emma swooned at his expression. "Because I want to take a picture of you before we leave."

She shook her head wildly. "Will, no."

He took the handle of her suitcase from her grip and wheeled it to next to his as he lifted the large black camera to eyelevel. "Yes," Will defied. "We need to know what you look like in case you get lost."

Emma huffed. "People are watching, Will."

"Em, just go and get under the sign."

With a forced, awkward smile, Emma stood under the sign that read 'Lima Departures', feeling the eyes of every passerby on her as Will snapped away. Again.

The same thing happened when they arrived at JFK. When Will instructed Emma to get under the much larger sign, she told him she would rather take a photo of him, and as Will told her to move back because the light was casting a shadow across her face, a friendly lady with dark skin offered to take a photo of both of them.

Emma shook her head at the lady's kind offer. "No, that's fine, we-"

Will grinned widely and handed the camera over. "That would be great, thanks so much!"

Will ushered Emma to stand below the sign, his arm winding around her waist as they both smiled at the camera. The lady decided to take another in case the first was of poorer quality.

When Will whispered lowly, 'Smile, Em', Emma knew she had made the right decision in being his friend.

They didn't sleep on the flight for two reasons. The first was that Emma took the opportunity to open her planner and share with Will every bit of information she had collected about Ireland, using pictures and charts. Will listened intently and then shared his own information. He taught her Gaelic terms he had picked up in college and she laughed. He told long, interesting Irish folktales and he described the landscape he was so excited to see. Emma's heat pounded at his romantic attitude.

It was cute when they first sat down, but soon the family in front of them became the primary reason for Will and Emma not getting any sleep.

"If I have children, they will be strictly disciplined to avoid situations like these in public places."

Will chuckled at Emma's remark, looking at the clouds through Emma's window. A six hour flight wasn't too bad when Emma and sunshine assaulted his visual senses.

"_If_ you have children? You don't want kids?" Will asked casually.

"I don't know," Emma sighed. "They're messy and frustrating..."

"It wouldn't be so bad," Will commented with honest belief. "It would be a shame if you never had kids."

Their conversation dwindled at his statement, and Emma turned her head to look out at the clouds floating by them. The only time she had ever been on a plane was to fly to and from Vegas, and those were night flights, 'to see the lights', Carl had said. She'd never seen clouds or sunshine from high above.

"I can't wait to have kids."

Emma turned to Will, his verbal thoughts bringing her out of her stupor. She must have looked fairly lost and confused, because his features contorted in curiosity and he asked, "Have you ever held a baby?"

Emma shook her head, her body relaxing as Will met her gaze.

"The feeling you get-it's just amazing. It feels more wonderful than any other sensation in the world. Especially tiny babies." Will grinned. "I remember holding my godson when he was a week old. He was wearing a tiny little singlet of white cotton and when I rested him against my chest and laid my palm across his back I just felt so...powerful. I can't imagine how it would feel to hold your own baby."

Emma swallowed. She didn't know what to say.

"You've never mentioned that you have a godson."

Will squinted as the sunlight reflected from the clouds and bounced through their window. "My cousin and I were both only children. She's like a sister to me."

Emma joined the dots in her mind. "That picture on your desk in your office, is that him?"

Will grinned proudly. "Yep. He's a cutie."

The smile that broke out on Emma's face was elegant and charming, and Will wished they had more than the friendship between them.

"Will, I thought that was you!"

Will laughed softly, trying not to interrupt the sleeping business man beside him on the aisle seat.

"Seriously! He looks just like you!" Emma remarked. "I have looked at that picture so many times and I could have sworn it was you."

Will grinned at the thought of Emma admiring his youthful photograph. "We do look alike. Sometimes when I'm out with him people assume I'm his dad. Especially now that he's older."

"How old is he now?" Emma asked with a tilt of her head.

"Billy's two and a bit." Will noted. "His dad left my cousin Alice when he was ten months old, and Billy hasn't seen him since. I doubt he remembers his dad."

Emma bit her lip in sorrow. "That's awful."

Will nodded, his features saddening. "It's going to be strange when he gets older and people start making comments about him being my kid. Then his mom will have to start answering questions."

"She's a single parent?"

Will nodded. "She's amazing, though."

_You're amazing_, Emma wanted to whisper. Perhaps she'd take his hand, too. But they were just getting back on track. She couldn't ruin something when they had twenty day of togetherness.

"It's great that you can be there for him when he doesn't have anyone to play the male role in his life."

Will nodded. "I love doing it." He was obviously remembering the boy, because Will smiled again, the sun from outside brightening Will's features. "He's such a sweetie."

Just when Emma's crush on this new, fatherly Will started to brew, the kids in front of them hollered loudly and Emma cringed. Children and babies were definitely not on her radar. In fact, they were light years away from even reaching the circumference of her radar.

They landed twenty minutes after scheduled time, and after they had collected their bags, been through customs and collected their too-small car, they were driving towards Dun Laoghaire, just south of Dublin.

For a first impression of Ireland, the drive they took towards their first place of accommodation was breathtaking. They had never seen so much green. The land looked healthy, and Emma wished for a second that her life was different, that her surroundings at home were more beautiful than the bleak reality. She loved Lima and her life there, but Ireland was gorgeous.

Before going straight to the Bed and Breakfast they were booked at, they decided that a meal of celebration (and necessity) was in order. Emma has barely eaten any of the plane food out of disgust, and so they chose a tiny little Irish pub on their drive towards Dun Laoghaire.

Will held the door open for two women exiting the pub, and Emma couldn't help but notice they were redheads. She assumed Will noticed as well, because he smiled widely and winked at Emma.

They were both relieved to step into the warm little pub. November was a cool month to travel Ireland, and Emma was glad she had taken Will's advice to leave her most of her skirts at home. Will had advised Emma that pencil skirts were not ideal for wearing on long drives, and he had persuaded Emma by making a comment that no one would know her there. And so, Emma daintily hoisted herself onto a bar stool in her new skinny jeans as Will ordered them drinks. She had a feeling she was going to like Ireland.

When they pulled into the long driveway of their first Bed and Breakfast, Emma's hand pressed against her chest at the sight of the sweet cottage.

Emma gathered her registration pages, day planner and handbag and made her way inside to reception leaving Will to unpack the bags from the car.

As Emma stepped inside the door and searched her surroundings for some sign of a reception desk, a heavy-set woman, not unlike Will's mother in appearance stepped from the doorway of what Emma assumed was the kitchen. She didn't seem to notice Emma standing in the hallway and with a dishrag in hand, the woman cried out through the door Emma had just stepped through, "Hello Mr and Mrs Pillsbury!"

"Oh, no, I'm Emma Pillsbury and that is Will Schuester."

The aged woman turned around with a grin, the fast turn of her body causing the rosary beads around her neck to bounce. Will hadn't seemed to notice the woman, and Emma spied past the lady that Will was speaking to a man by the garden.

"Oh, darlin' are you one of those Americans that prefers to keep her name? Good on you, I say. Pillsbury...That's English, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is." Emma offered a bright smile. "Will's just getting our bags out of the car." Emma nodded towards the driveway and the woman turned to take Will in She turned back to Emma with a grin and wink.

Emma shook head and blushed. "I'm sorry but I just have to tell you that he's not my husband."

"He's not?" The woman raised her eyebrows.

"No. We're just friends."

The sixty-something year old bit her lip, the shake of her head causing Emma to blink. "Oh, honey, you're going to have some problems."

Emma raised her own eyebrows as the lady made her way down the hall.

"Excuse me?" Emma asked as she followed behind.

"Well, darlin', how did you win yourself this little trip?" Her Irish accent was strong, and Emma listened carefully to catch each syllable.

"In a raffle at my church. It was a national raffle once all of the tokens were collected and my name was lucky enough to be drawn."

"You're a Catholic aren't you, love?" the lady asked as she opened a locked drawer with a key to pull out the registration diary.

"Yes." Emma nodded.

"Well, darlin', your church and it's greater father church has organised the accommodation for you. We're the first stop on this list aren't we?"

"Yes, tomorrow we're driving to Waterford. I understand that the accommodation was organised, and I for one are very thankful for that." And she was. One of the reasons Emma has been so excited to leave for Ireland was the prospect of having everything so neatly organised.

"Yes, Emma, but you see the little home stays you and your friend are lodging in are run by strong Catholics, that's why they've picked every bed and breakfast on that little list. What you've got yourself there are a few Catholic retreats."

Emma's eyes travelled over the list.

"Well, I haven't been the most faithful of followers in recent times, so I will look forward to this oppor-"

"Oh, darlin', you're not really gettin' it. You're booked for one room, and only married couples can share a room in these places. Strong Catholics, I tell you. If any of the hosts on that list find out you're not married, they aren't going to accept you lodging in their homes, and you're going to have to find other accommodation. Even here, I can't have you sleepin' in the same bed! If my husband found out he'd shoot the both of you!" the woman exclaimed with wide eyes.

Emma's face flushed. "Oh, gosh, we wouldn't be sleeping together at all, and we would be fine with having separate rooms. Actually, that would be our preference. That's what we thought we were signed up for. Single rooms would be wonderful."

The lady laughed at Emma's obliviousness. "Darlin', we ain't got any single rooms, and you'll be lucky to find any home stays that do. Most are going to hand you a key to a room with a double bed. You're booked for one room, and unless you want to pay for another room."

Emma's features were panicked. "So you're saying we can't stay at any of these homes on the list unless we pay for our own separate rooms? We can't afford that."

"No, darlin', what sayin' is that maybe you should head on out there and tell your friend you've decided he's your husband. If he doesn't agree, you're going to have to tell him to open his cheque book."

Emma gasped. "I can't do that!" She could hear Will speaking outside, his laughter and American accent strong.

"Well, all I'm saying is that most of these hosts on the list are going to be notified that he's your husband, and unless you want to add few grand to your holiday cost, you're best to keep it that way."

Emma brought a hand to her forehead. What would Will think? Was this going to be a complete disaster?

"What will we do tonight?" Emma asked, her breathing quickening.

The woman flicked through her planner. "I have a few vacancies for you both to have separate rooms at no additional cost, and I'm nice enough to understand your situation. Most strong Catholics won't, and they won't give it you for free. This is a very busy travel period and you won't have such luck in other Catholic bed and breakfasts, especially the busy ones on this list. And you're best to stick to the story rather than find other accommodation in mainstream hotels, because everything that is above standard will already be booked up or incredibly expensive."

The thought of staying in a cheap motel sent Emma running out to the car.

Will was engaged in conversation and Emma stood by her anxiety growing by the second as she waited for Will to finish up. With a nod and quick smile to the elderly man with the shovel, Emma walked to the other side of the car where they would be assured privacy from the gardener she assumed would be the one to shoot them if he found them in bed together.

"Will, we have a problem."

His grin softened. "What's wrong?"

Emma cast a glance to the woman at the counter. She could feel the woman's eyes on them as Emma peered nonchalantly over Will's shoulder. The emotions coursing through her were anything but blasé.

"You know how I won this through my church?"

"Yeah?" Will questioned.

Emma opened her planner to pull out the most important form. "Well apparently all of the bed and breakfasts on this list are Catholic."

Will raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

Emma lowered her voice with her gaze. "They don't accept unmarried couples sleeping in the same bed."

Will chuckled. "But we have separate rooms."

Emma swallowed. "No, we don't. My church payed for us as a married couple with one room, and we have to pay the additional cost of the second room if we want to stay. Will, we have to pay at every one of these places."

"Is this a joke?" Will smiled, casting a glance at Emma.

Emma shook her head, the paleness of her cheeks alerting Will to the fact that she was completely serious. "No, the lady at the desk just told me."

"We can't afford that!" Will gulped.

"I know." Emma sighed in frustration. "She says we should just stick to what they have us booked as." Will's eyes widened and Emma couldn't tell if he looked pleased or irritated. Mostly, he just looked confused. "She also said it's going to be hard to find accommodation in clean places. Will, what are we going to do? Everything is so disorganised!"

Emma's breathing started to quicken, and Will softly grasped her forearms over the thick green pea coat she was wearing- the same one he had kissed her in years ago. "Okay. I have an idea. How about we pay half of the accommodation. So every second night, we get separate rooms if they look like they have vacancies. It will half the cost, but it won't be for the whole trip."

Emma blinked as she stared into Will's eyes. "But we're going to pretend we're married every second day?"

"Yep." Will nodded surely, confident in his plan. "It's no big deal, Em. It's just like when you were in college and you claimed you were a child to not pay the full price of a movie ticket."

Emma murmured something that sounded like 'I never did that', but Will ignored it when she whispered, "So every second night we're going to share a bed?"

He imagined it. He remembered how breathtaking her kisses were. But she was so gentle and sweet that he needed to help her relax as much as she could. He needed to make her feel comfortable.

"Unless you want to be a big spender, yeah..." he grinned.

Emma swallowed and released a deep breath. "Okay."

Wheeling their bags into the cottage, the elderly lady greeted them again.

"Hello, Mr Pillsbury! Are you enjoying Ireland?"

_**AN:**_ _I sure hope everyone enjoys this story. It maybe all rainbows and butterflies now, but things are going to get interesting and dramatic. _

_As always, reviews are so wonderful and I appreciate every one of them. Thank you very much for reading and to those who review._


	3. Chapter 3

After their first night, they made their way to Waterford the next day.

They had spent their time in Dun Laoghaire catching up on sleep they had missed, jetlag an upset neither had dealt with previously. Emma hadn't even complained about sleeping in a bed that wasn't her own. They opted to eat breakfast together that first morning on the secluded porch of the cottage. Emma felt uneasy at the mere prospect of having to lie to a married couple about her relationship with Will, and so they ate together as the outdoor fireplace warmed their sides. Just the image of a religious figure above Emma's lonely bed the night before had scared her stiff thinking about the future of lies they would be uttering. From the enclosed porch, they could see a green landscape that stretched for miles, a distance of purity to explore.

They left after breakfast and drove to Waterford, the next location on Emma's itinerary. While there wasn't much to see on the highways, they both enjoyed each other's company on the drive and spoke of things that mattered, and things that didn't. They spoke of Rachel Berry's chances of getting into a New York-based dramatic arts school, and Will told Emma all about his childhood growing up with his favourite cousin, Alice.

It was cold in the rental car. Every so often, Emma would raise her hands to hover before the warm vents of the dashboard before sliding her hands tightly between her hot, crossed thighs to keep them warm. It was a habit she had given light to yesterday, and Will couldn't help but watch from the corner of his eye. It was cute; she would talk as she warmed her fingertips by the dashboard. And then it was sexy; her fingers digging between her legs so innocently.

Emma decided it was best to take their luggage to their place of accommodation before they went exploring. And then she read almost the entire chapter labelled 'Irish Crime- Things to look out for' from her Lonely Planet guide. Will listened intently to her voice, but he barely paid any attention to her words.

When they arrived outside the second Bed and Breakfast, they were shocked to find how different the exterior was to the cottage they had stayed at the night before. The complex was in no way isolated or a cliché plonked picturesquely amidst green hills. Rather, the home was similar to a double terrace in a street of houses decorated by old English architecture. It was sweet, welcoming, and familiar.

The only feature that made Emma's heart speed was the 'No Vacancies' sign that loomed by the door.

"Well, what would you know?" Will smiled, watching Emma as she gazed through her frosted window.

"I guess it's better this way...we don't have the choice to keep adding to the cost."

Will sighed with a smile as he met Emma's gaze. "Yeah, you're right. If we start paying for separate rooms at every place that we can, we'll be broke in no time."

"Well...I guess I'm your wife for today." Emma fidgeted in her seat.

"I guess you are," Will whispered. And then a part of him died with hope and anticipation.

When they stepped inside, their heads swam. Crosses lined the walls. Religious portraits cast accusing eyes over Emma and Will. A hearty laugh bellowed from another room, followed by a string of words hollered in a strong Irish accent. Will swallowed. Emma blinked twice. With a smile, they signed in as Mr and Mrs Pillsbury. They took their bags to their room, locked their important possessions in the small safe, and dropped the subject before venturing out to explore.

The Waterford factory wasn't far from their accommodation and Emma was adamant they stick to schedule and get there early, immediately after checking in.

By ten that morning, the car park at the crystal factory was almost full. For a male Spanish teacher, Will seemed to have an extensive knowledge of all things crystal, and so as they crossed gravel, Will raved about the rarity of the Waterford crystal. It was romantic, and as they glanced at the expensive items in the front-of-shop, Emma gushed.

"When I told her I was leaving for Ireland, April asked me to buy her something that sparkles."

Emma blushed pink with jealous rage at Will's casual comment. "Oh." Her tone emitted irritation. "She's not shy."

Will shrugged. "She'd probably just pawn it anyway."

She couldn't look at him. "Mmm..."Spite consumed her, and Emma tapped her nails against the glass in frustration.

And then it caught her eye. It didn't glimmer or sparkle, but the uncanniness was striking.

"Oh my god. That ring looks exactly like my grandmother's engagement ring!" Emma exclaimed.

Will stepped up behind her. "Really? Which one?"

"It's that one," Emma pointed to the glass as Will leaned over her shoulder. "Third row across and second row down. I mean, I think so. I can't really remember it. My mom lost it years ago and she's never found it." Emma swallowed deeply as she loosened the tie on her coat. It was warm in the store. "Obviously it's not the same one, but it looks just like it."

Will grinned with maturity. "Things like that are funny. They show up when you least expect them to."

With a glance into his understanding eyes, Emma decided Will was right. And then her jealousy vanished.

They spent the day admiring the town and splurged at an expensive restaurant for lunch. Emma ordered soup and Will ordered steak. Seated in the fancy Irish restaurant, Emma realised how they appeared; the perfect couple. She was confident that she was pretty, and she was certain Will was gorgeous. He radiated sex appeal, and to onlookers, his sex appeal was shared most intimately with Emma. It was a game, and Emma was winning.

It was well after dark when they climbed the steps to Waterford Cathedral. 'Stunning' couldn't describe the vision Emma and Will were pleasantly assaulted by when they stepped inside. In reverence, their discussion was reduced to a respectful silence. One thought ran through Will's mind as he clicked away with his new camera- the cathedral didn't seem quite as religious as the bedroom that waited for them to occupy across town. The room was dressed with Catholicism, a prominent crucifix hung above their bed. Emma had not said a word, but when they had placed their luggage in the room, it had been obvious that the design had made Emma uncomfortable.

"We sure don't have churches like these in Lima," Will whispered. Emma nodded, and stepped away. She made her way along the side aisle of the Cathedral to admire the statues, and when she returned, Will could have sworn she had been crying. Her eyes were red rimmed and her cheeks were tear stained. She sat down in the second pew, and after a moment, Will joined her.

She gripped the edges of the pew and leant forward. All Will could fathom was that Emma was the epitome of beauty. Her profile was perfect in his peripheral vision, and he watched her breathe as the bells of the cathedral chimed. Was it nine, or ten o'clock?

Their hands brushed against each others as Will mirrored Emma's position. It was odd, and so edifyingly right.

"Did you get married in a church, Will?" Emma whispered as she met Will's admiring glance.

"No. I married Terri in a garden." He paused. "It was nice."

"I was married in a chapel in Vegas," Emma whispered sadly.

At that moment, all Will wanted was to marry Emma. He would give her _everything_. He'd never let her go. All he had wanted for so long was just_ her_.

"It's kind of frightening." Emma observed thoughtfully, and Will waited with baited breath. "I wouldn't want to be alone here at night."

"It is night."

"But I'm not alone," Emma smiled, and Will's gaze fell to her lips. Perfect, pink flesh that he wanted to mould with his. He hadn't kissed Emma for so long and the memory haunted him. Her lips made his tingle. In the corner of his eye, he watched her lick her lips, her perfect tongue he had never tasted wetting her flesh. Control was a poor value of Will's, and had she initiated something when their gazes clashed desperately, god knows what would have happened. Her eyes pledged an elusive wanton nature, and Will was silently frantic. Had she not stood and separated herself from him, mindlessly pacing around the cathedral, he would have laid her down on the pew and made reckless love to her.

They didn't leave the Cathedral for a long time, and it was almost midnight when they made their way up the stairs to their room.

"Oh my god," Emma whispered, as once again she took in the design of their room. Catholicism practically painted the walls. And there it was, the barer of guilt for Emma- a large cross above the double bed.

"Should we take down the cross, Will?" Emma whispered as she pulled a jumper over her nightgown.

"Why would we take it down?" Will asked casually as he stepped out of their bathroom, clad in winter pyjama's.

"Because we're not married!" Emma exclaimed as she turned the thermostat up higher, her cheeks warming for a different reason.

He loved that she blushed. Standing there, Will worshipped her in secrecy purely for the reason that her body betrayed her mind- she would always blush if they were in a suggestive situation. Did she blush when making love?

"Do you have a side?" He croaked in nervousness. _God_, they were only sleeping together in the literal sense.

"I usually just sleep in the middle," Emma whispered, earning a nod from Will. With a glance, a silent agreement was made that they would each take one side.

They climbed in together, the old mattress sinking in the middle, causing Will and Emma to work harder to keep themselves apart.

Silence erupted.

"I can't believe Jesus is watching us," Will commented with a smirk.

Emma laughed softly. "I know. I'm feeling very whorish right now."

Will shifted to rest on his elbow, his strong form balancing by Emma's. "We're not doing anything." He caught her gaze in the moonlight.

Emma's tongue poked out to wet her suddenly dry lips. "I guess not..."

He looked down to the extra blanket they had thrown over the covers. "This is a Catholic Bed and Breakfast. I'm sure he has seen much worse."

Emma shivered, wrapping her arms around herself.

"You cold?" Will worried, reaching out to rub his palm across her bicep.

Emma shifted at Will's touch. "I'm okay."

They both lay awake for a while, contemplating why they had been pushed together so perfectly. Two years ago, to lie in a bed with Will had been Emma's darkest fantasy.

"This is kind of weird, isn't it?"Will quizzed. Emma wanted to scream _'No, it's not weird. It's what I've always wanted, and I know you have, too. Gather me in your arms and let me whisper of how I love your passion for me. I want you, Will. I'm so sorry and I want you so completely.'_

Instead, Emma choked, "Yeah."

He met her gaze with a smile. "You're okay with it, though?"

She mirrored his upturned lips. "Sure."

It was hard to think of anything but Will, so she tried with every effort she owned. And then the nagging returned from that morning.

"I should have bought that crystal. It's like my grandmother was calling to me from the grave," Emma shared profoundly.

"I used to have a ring that looks like that. It was my grandmother's, too."

"Did you wear it, Will?" Emma asked playfully.

Will chuckled. "No, I didn't wear it." He paused. "It was supposed to be for my wife, but when I was still dating Terri after college my dad asked for it back. My cousin in Atlanta was considering asking a girl to marry him. So now the ring sits on his wife Dahlia's hand." He shifted upon the mattress, causing the space between them to shrink. "It looks better on her than it would have on Terri."

Terri. Lies. Students. McKinley High. Lima. "It's weird not being home, isn't it?" Emma whispered as Will shifted his elbow in his pillow, peering down at Emma.

Suddenly, they were so close and worlds apart. "No, I feel very much at home."

Will reached out beneath the covers, allowing his palm to rest over Emma's hip.

Her body vibrated with pleasure at the simple touch. "What are you doing, Will?"

Heat. The thermostat was humming. "I'm not doing anything..."

His palm travelled up over her waist to rest in the curve. He was gentle with the trail of his fingertips.

He couldn't stop himself. "I just want-

"Will, not here, okay?"

His forehead fell to rest upon Emma's. "I think we need to talk about a few things."

"I know, I know. And we will." His palm curved tighter around her waist. He was holding onto her. "It's just that I think we should wait, you know, until we get home. I don't want to ruin anything on this trip and then we'll be stuck together and it will be incredibly awkward."

He shook his head. "It wouldn't be awkward."

A whimper escaped Emma's lips. "Yes, it would."She tensed her stomach muscles and Will pulled away, rejected and torn by need. "I'm not ready, Will. I'm not ready for so many things, and Jesus is watching us, and it's just too much. I'm afraid I'll freak out from the pressure and then god knows what would happen. I just need more time to get used to the way I feel with my medication. I need to figure some things out."

"It's still there, though, isn't it? I'm not going crazy?" He moved closer, his breath ricocheting off Emma's lips, and she immediately knew what he was speaking of. The cloud of sexual denial that rained and rained, leaked and poured, and cast a constant shadow. Emma was waking up to sensations that consumed her, and she had an unknowing need for Will to fulfil her cravings.

His whisper was warm on her lips. "Can you feel the tension, too?"

Emma's confession was lustful and whispered hoarsely. "You're not going crazy." And then he moved his thigh to press against hers. Her body froze. "But it's best that we just stay friends."

Will sighed and placed a quick kiss on her lips. "That's what you want?"

"Yes, please."

He edged away slowly, and before Emma could be rocked by guilt she didn't deserve to deal with, Will professed, "I'm going to be such a good friend."

Emma toes brushed Will's.

"No, Will. You're going to be a close friend."

They both laughed, allowing the simple touch of their feet.

"Night, Will."

"Good night, Emma."

Emma was the first to wake the next morning, but she didn't move an inch. She rested for a while, warm beneath the covers and dreading the cold that seep through her blood as soon as her bare toes slipped against the cool floorboards. She felt Will shift in bed, and closed her eyes, feeling silly. They had done more than share a bed in the past. But after last night and Will's suggestive advances, something in Emma's heart had been shaken. Emma felt Will shift in bed and listened as he undressed and unzipped his suitcase in search of new clothes. He thought she was asleep, and Emma listened as Will dressed himself in under two minutes. The click of a pen was louder than he had considerately been in is haste to dress, and his scribbling on paper was heard faintly. And then the door clicked and Will was gone.

Emma sat up in bed. She swung her legs over the side on the mattress, barely registering the frozen air of the room as she leaned over the dresser to read the note. She was careful not to kick her toe on the edge on the suitcase on the floor as she read Will's handwriting.

'_I've gone to take a few pictures of the cathedral in daylight. I'll be back before 9:30.'_

Will stood by the door three minutes before nine. An elderly lady opened the door to the front store of the factory, welcoming Will warmly as she commented in her strong Irish accent that he was the first, and very eager customer of the day.

He smiled, content to not discuss his poorly considered plans for the day. Will told the kind lady of his limited time as he politely stepped toward the far corner of the room and peered into the glass case. The lady stepped behind the counter.

"It's that one," Will pointed to the glass. "Third row across and second row down."

AN: I'm incredibly sorry this chapter has taken so long, and I won't let that happen again. I hope everyone did enjoy this update. Thanks for reading and reviewing! It's so nice to write for those who always kindly review.


	4. Chapter 4

It was on their second week in Ireland that Will and Emma arrived in South Tipperary.

Each night had been increasingly less awkward than the one before, and in over a week, they had settled into a rhythm they were comfortable with.

For three days, Emma made Will laugh. Beneath the veil of lust hiding both of their true selves, they really were the best of friends. If one were to dig away at the issues that had piled on top of the genuine affection they felt for each other, admiration and respect would be found. Will was Emma's person, and Emma was Will's best friend.

Even on nights when they shared a room, they were grow ups about it and didn't tease each other, or worse, lead each other on. They were sated, too. Too tired most days, they were barely alone in the bedroom for half an hour when Will was asleep on top of the covers in his clothes. Twice, Emma had gently woken Will with his pyjamas in her arms and a sweet smile gracing her lips. Each time he saw the pyjamas, he freaked a little at the thought that she had been in his suitcase. The ring was buried in the depths between underwear and socks, but each time she woke him he cursed himself for giving into tiredness at the thought she may discover her ring.

But in Cashel, Will and Emma were granted a room of their own, Will in the large attic room and Emma on the second floor by the staircase.

They had enquired if vacancies were available the same way they usually did. Not wanting to arrive and have the receptionist suspiciously enquire why a married couple would desire separate rooms, Will called beforehand. Each day, Will was given the opportunity to put his acting skills to use. Emma would giggle outside the phone box as she listened to Will adopt a British, Australian or Italian accent. He would ask politely if there were vacancies. If so, when they arrived they would state they were just friends and needed separate rooms, which they would pay for. If there were not vacancies, they would arrive holding hands and issue terms of endearment to each other as Emma signed them in as Mr and Mrs Pillsbury.

The wind pushed against Emma's chest, the coolness turning her pale cheeks a light shade of pink as she climbed the stairs to the chapel. Will was steps behind her, camera hanging around his neck as he made sure to keep his footing on the narrow staircase.

The Rock of Cashel was remarkable. After walking the grounds and the site for a majority of the day, they were both exhausted. Emma couldn't remember taking in as much historic information since college, and Will thrived on the atmosphere which surrounded him. The gothic cathedral was a sight for sore eyes.

Will had wanted to stay until sunset, to watch the orange glow descend over the Tipperary hills as he snapped away at the Celtic architecture of his new favourite place.

While many tourists bent over to read inscriptions on tombstones on the grounds below, Emma and Will were the only ones up high in the chapel.

It was nice to be alone in such a serene environment. They had visited the chapel earlier in the day on their first lap around the castle, but being inside the eroded room as the cooler wind enveloped their bodies was different.

They had stood in the exact location hours before. Will leaning against the open stone window as Emma stood beside him with his camera in her cold, shaky hands. She had snapped away, understanding his infatuation with film, when a young boy offered in broken English if Emma would like him to take a photo of the two of them. Will had waited by the window, watching for Emma's response. Waiting to see if she knew what she wanted.

Right away, Emma handed over the camera, moving to stand by the window. Will grinned, Emma smiled. As she stepped nearer to Will, the ground below seemed too far. Her eyes widened, Will caught her forearm, and before she could determine what the safety risk of standing so near to the window was, she was flush against Will's chest. Click. Her red curls were flying against Will's scarf. Snap. Two poorly taken photos they would later find out. But sometimes a flash didn't matter.

"We've spent all day here," Emma observed with a yawn, inching her way toward the open stone window with caution.

She didn't see when he peered through the lens and adjusted the focus on her profile. She didn't notice how he would move the camera toward the ceiling when she glanced his way. The sun was setting, shinning upon her sweet features and lighting her red hair. The snap of the lens shutter didn't reach Emma's ears each time Will zoomed in on her hand brushing the wall of the chapel.

He stepped closer to Emma. Her expression beamed with glee as she stood by the window, looking out to the beauty of the land. She was oblivious to his form hovering behind her, until Will rested the nose of the camera between the crook of Emma's shoulder and neck.

She didn't move as he brought the camera to focus and breathed her perfume in. Nothing had ever felt more ideal.

"I'd spend every day of my life walking around this castle. It's one of the most special people I've ever met," Will muttered as he pulled away, admiring his photography skills as he flicked through his previously taken photos. Emma stepped away from the window with dramatic caution. Will looked up, watching as she tried desperately to balance on the flat floor beneath her feet.

Her eyes were riveted to the ground and Will looked away, not wanting to tease her for not feeling safe. Still, it was mildly amusing.

"People?" Emma enquired.

Will nodded as he stepped up to the window. The breeze was only getting cooler. He hoped the snow would hold off until they were on a flight back to America, because they hadn't packed for temperatures below zero.

"It has more character than some of my Glee kids." He chuckled. "And that's saying a lot." Emma smiled widely, licking her lips. "This building is a person by very definition."

She watched the lines in his forehead crease as he admired the sunset through the lens of his camera. "Will, if you could, would you really stay here every day?" Emma queried. "Would you walk the halls and climb the stairs?" Will looked her way, the lines in his soft skin disappearing as he listened to Emma. "Or are you just saying that you would?"

His features ghosted over with certainty.

"Miss Pillsbury, I would most definitely spend the rest of my life here if I didn't have responsibilities and children who needed me."

"Will you come back?" Emma asked as she adjusted her white scarf, stepping closer to find the sun having almost set.

"Will you?" Will whispered. A plan almost read in his eyes. _If the universe ever pulls us apart, meet me here in ten years because all I've ever wanted is to be yours, even if it's only for one night. _

Her green pea coat felt too heavy. "It's getting late." They needed to leave. "We don't want to get locked in."

Will lowered his camera, content with the images he already had for memories sake.

"Would that be so bad?" he challenged, turning his body completely to give Emma his undivided attention.

She nodded, casting her gaze out to the grounds below where Celtic crosses marked ancient graves. "Yes. It's freezing."

He shrugged, looking down. "I could warm you up..."

His comment hit Emma by surprise, and she giggled. "That's so cheesy."

When Will raised his glance, his face was etched with seriousness. He was dark, mysterious, and utterly handsome. He made her want in a way she never knew existed. He was the one she had waited all her life for, dreamt about when she had said no to all of the strangers who were mildly interested in her. Suddenly, Emma didn't fathom the notion of getting locked in as entirely horrible. In fact, it was rather perfect. He'd lay his coat down in the warmest corner, she'd lie upon it, and he'd rest above her. Maybe he'd press her against stone and reach between her legs with hunger in his eyes. It wasn't ridiculous; for a brief eternity in only four seconds, Emma wanted to lose her virginity at the cold, gothic Rock of Cashel.

Instead, Will left her confused gaze, led the way to the entrance and drove them home.

They ate in the small dining room for dinner, and quietly ascended the stairs of the homey cottage to Will's room. They were glad not to run into any couples or families on the way upstairs that night, but the air around them was less tense. The home seemed more like an escape than the few convent-style homes they had stayed in the previous week.

The night was still young. Without the Lima news to send Emma into a frenzy each evening, Emma was suffocated by boredom by the Irish Weather channel, and so they often slipped into each other's rooms to share their appreciated company.

Will's room was cosier than Emma's, and she enjoyed the warmth the flames of the fire threw as Will settled next to her on the rug.

"I don't have a fire at home," Emma casually noted as he stretched his long legs out next to her.

"No?"

She shook her head. "No. I've always dreamt of having a fire to sit by."

Will brushed his shoulder against hers for a moment. "Well, it's no fun if you're sitting alone." He glanced into the flickering red light. "I rarely light mine."

They sat by each other for a long while, and Emma imagined what it would be like to curl up in his arms and feel true warmth. Perhaps he could just stand nearby. As long as he was near.

Will seemed restless, and so Emma offered a suggestion. "It's only early. We should go for a walk."

They walked around their bed and breakfast, and on a whim, decided to keep going. They walked for half an hour until they reached the small Village of Cashel, a main street alive with culture that Saturday evening.

They stood amongst a large group of town folk, listening to the laughter and joy of families and friends as a folk band played an instrumental tune which brought a smile to Will's lips. Emma watched Will. His eyelashes were long, his lips so dreamily perfect. He was almost hers. He could be hers.

"It's so different to be surrounded by culture every waking minute. Ireland is just all around us," Will commented as he shoved his cold hands into the pockets of his coat.

Emma nodded. "It's an experience of a lifetime, that's for sure."

The next string of words that tumbled from her lips came out of nowhere, and wanted to catch them before they reached Will's ears, but she couldn't.

"Carl wanted to take me to Italy after our wedding. But I was too stubborn to let him pay and I'd just put everything I had into our savings account for a tract house."

His eyes glazed over with shame as she watched the lump in his throat bob up and down again. He could never give Emma what Carl could, he was realising as she witnessed pain flicker in his eyes.

"It was safe with Carl, wasn't it?" Will whispered as he stepped away from the group.

She wanted to apologise, but her regret was caught between not understanding Will's comment and taking back her own words. "Sorry?"

"You had security."

Her limbs seemed to go numb.

"I know how important it is to you to feel safe, Emma."

His eyes screamed that he wanted to be the one to make her feel safe. Her heart fluttered, yet she read his knowledge as a sign of truth. Was he pushing her away, insisting she go back to everything Carl offered her? Will's expression shouted the opposite_. I'll hold you at night and give you everything I possibly can. _The way he straightened his back conveyed that he believed that he didn't deserve her; that he had nothing else to give.

"That's not the only thing that's important to me," Emma insisted softly. "Money isn't the kind of security I'm looking for."

"Really?" Will asked, continuing calmly down the main street as the sounds of the band floated behind them. "Then why did you marry him?"

She felt stupid. "Because he loved me." Her cheeks were on fire. "And I loved him."

Will stopped, his eyes dark and etched with sorrow as their eyes locked. "You loved me."

Emma gulped, uncrossing her arms and stuffing her hands into her pockets. "You were already married." She didn't consider how hurtful her next words would be, how he would replay them in his mind for the next three years. "And when you weren't, you never whisked me away to Vegas."

She began to walk again, but Will stopped her, curling his fingers around her wrist. "No, I wouldn't dream of it. Because I respect you."

She pulled her arm away, his grip too gentle to keep her mind where it needed to be- protecting her heart. "So you respected me when you slept with April Rhodes and shoved your tongue down Shelby's throat?" He watched her, his expression unreadable. "I'm a woman, too, Will." Her mouth was dry, but Emma was fierce. "I may not be as beautiful as Shelby or have the charm of April Rhodes, but I have feelings, too."

He shook his head. "You're stunning."

She scoffed. "Don't stand here and tell me how beautiful I am when you've upset me." Tears sprang to her eyes. "I know who I am and who I'm not. I know I'm not desirable and oozing with sex-appeal, but I'm bright and I will go to my grave trying not to hurt those who I love."

His heart ached for her. _Did she really think that of herself?_ She needed to know how elegant and divine she was. He had never met a person with such self-respect and defined values. And she made his body ache with need.

"I didn't mean to offend you, Emma." He could see the tears pooling in her eyes. "You're worth more than a thousand Aprils."

Her voice was hoarse. "I don't need you to tell me that." She closed her eyes tightly, tears slipping down her cheeks. "Everyone thinks I haven't got confidence, but I have. I'm strong."

Will swallowed and nodded. "Why don't you let your confidence show more often?"

Her eyes were bleak when she opened them. She gazed at Will with shock, like he has just asked the most insensitive question in the history of admiration. He knew the answer; she had so many problems, that's why she was insecure. But she's working on it. Can't he see that?

His eyes were wide, waiting for her answer. She felt small. He had made her feel insignificant.

"Falling in love with you was the stupidest thing I've ever let happen."

Was she drunk? Was she crazy? Was she hallucinating?

"You don't mean that."

The next words tasted violent on her tongue.

"I do."

He tilted his head at her answer, disbelieving and hurt.

She looked down t her feet, the rocky gravel beneath her feet. "I used to be put together and-"

"You used to be a mess."

Emma's voice shook. "I knew what I wanted."

And she began walking. He let her walk for a long time before he stepped beside her. They were only metres away from their Bed and Breakfast when she sensed him steps behind.

She waited for his apology. He waited for hers.

And then he challenged softly in the most passionately raspy tone she had ever heard, "You wanted antiseptic and latex gloves. I'm the one that let your heart breathe."

She turned quickly, tears stains drying on her cheeks in the moonlight. "Don't try to sway me with your poetic tongue, Will! I care about things just as much as you do! I'm every bit as passionate!"

"Then why won't you let us try, Em?" he begged.

"Because I don't even know if I want you in my life!"

Her eyes were regretful. She silently pleaded for him to forget her ridiculous words. He took a step backwards, as though he had once again been wounded. He licked his gorgeous lips, stepped around her, and she didn't see him again that night.

She was speaking with the hostess at reception the next morning when he leaned over her shoulder.

When she turned, his features looked drained.

"Maybe we should spend the day alone, cool down."

"I am cool," Emma remarked.

"Yeah, but I'm not."

Neither of them drove that day, but they both walked to Cashel Village. It was surprising that they didn't see each other, because they both walked the main street three times before giving up and heading in different directions.

The extra days they usually had in towns were spent together, finding different things to look at and admiring the culture. They would often separate for hours sometimes. Will would stand outside and listen to folk singers while Emma would glance in tiny stores for souvenirs. Not that day. Completely apart was decidedly boring.

Will spent the afternoon by the lake close to their Bed and Breakfast. He hadn't meant to waste time just sitting there; he had been heading home to get the recharged battery for his camera. But then he had seen the lake, and he couldn't keep walking. He sat for a while, and then lay down to rest for a minute, and sooner than later, Will was asleep.

He awoke as the sun was setting. There was no point in walking all the way back, so he decided to head inside. He showered, dressed, slipped a note under Emma's door, and headed to the dining room downstairs.

It was drizzling with rain when Emma finally arrived at the bed and breakfast that same night. She had made a detour past the Rock of Cashel to see it lit up at night, and only wished Will could have seen such a scarily profound Cathedral in all its illuminated glory.

It was late when Emma arrived home, but she didn't feel like eating dinner. Guilt continued to claw at her lungs, and her stolen breath left her without an appetite. She went straight to her bedroom. Slipped under her door she found a note in Will's handwriting, asking her if she would like to join him for dinner and if she would, he would be in the dining room until eight.

She'd missed the opportunity to apologise. It was nine o'clock.

She contemplated going up to his room, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. They'd speak in the morning, have breakfast together before they left for their next stop.

She was content with her plan to see him in the morning. She changed into her pyjamas and settled beneath the covers with the only book she had brought along. A romance. An erotic romance. Her very first sexy novel.

At page six, there was a knock at her bedroom door.

When she turned the handle, Will was leaning against the deep doorframe.

"I just came to make sure you got home okay."

He looked different. Older, darker. Dangerous.

Emma looked down to make sure all of the buttons of her pyjamas were buttoned. "I'm fine."

He was watching her again, as he had at the Rock of Cashel as the sun set. She searched for words. "I need you to know that I didn't mean what I said."

He nodded. The argument was over. "Did you have a good day?"

She grinned, leaning against the opposite doorframe."No."

His features remained blank, refusing to match her grin. She lost her own. "Me either."

The longest moment passed. He stared. Her eyes widened. She didn't know what to say. His lips parted. She bit her lip. He choked on his words. "I couldn't stop thinking about you."

Her breathing quickened. "Will."

He payed no attention to her whisper of his name. He moved closer, closer. His hip bones rubbed against hers and their chests met as he trapped her against the doorframe.

He craned his neck as her eyelids slipped closed.

"Emma...I never want to stop thinking of you."

Her heart raced. Her pelvis pushed forward without permission.

Will kissed her. His bottom lip settled between hers and she quivered. She parted her flesh and Will moaned softly.

He caressed her lips with gentle ease, but their lower halves enjoyed the friction they allowed themselves. He pressed her harder against the doorframe. His hands found her sides and he lifted her small body against his. Her legs wrapped tightly around his waist. Their bodies pressed together. They rocked together. Grinded. Writhed in the hallway of the darkened cottage. And still, he kissed her ever so slowly. Her hands tangled in his curls as he held her steady above the ground. When she felt his arousal press between her legs, Emma pulled back in delight.

He mistook her shock for regret, and lowered her immediately.

"Wait." Will whispered, looking around to make sure the hall was as quiet as it had been when he initially knocked on her door. "I can't do this...not again." Emma licked her lips. They tingled from his kiss. "You need to figure out what it is you want." Their gazes locked. "I'm sorry I kissed you." _No, Will_. _Don't be sorry._ "We should forget this happened."

She nodded in agreement. "Tomorrow's a new day."

"Right." Will leant against the doorframe, his palm resting upon the wood above Emma's head. "I'm going now." They both looked down to the bulge in Will's jeans.

Emma swallowed. "Are you okay?"

"Yep." Will released a deep breath. "Just give me a minute."

"I guess it's a good thing we have separate rooms tonight..." Emma whispered softly.

Will turned his neck to look at Emma, a bright light shining from darkness of her eyes.

His expression questioned her. _Is it? Is that what you really want? I wouldn't be able to control myself if we were sharing a bed. Emma, tell me you wouldn't want to control yourself either._

Her eyes were wide, and his were on fire.

_AN: Just wanted to let everyone know that I'm working on starting a new fic- a Wemma college fic. I'm very excited to get the first chapter written and I'll be posting a preview up on my profile very soon. Let me know how you liked this chapter if you have the time, I always appreciate it!_


	5. Chapter 5

They had a long drive ahead of them the morning they left Cashel. A two and a half hour drive, alone together. Just the two of them. And things had ended uncomfortably the night before in more ways than one; the main reason though, was the recent memory of Emma's legs around Will's waist.

As they seated themselves at breakfast the morning before their long drive, they were polite and friendly, but not their usual selves. As Will buttered his toast, Emma lifted her bacon onto his plate as she did every morning. They had a system, and regardless of the sexual tension that suffocated them, they were comfortable.

"Mind if we sit here?"

Emma lifted her head to find a tall brunette woman standing next to Will, and a slightly shorter, blonde man to the woman's right.

Will smiled and moved his plate towards himself, gesturing for the couple to sit with them for breakfast. Denise and Ben were a kind British couple from South-West London, and within three minutes of conversation on bubbly Denise's part, Will and Emma knew more about Ben and Denise than they did about Rachel Berry.

"So how long have you two been married?" Will asked pleasantly.

Denise gushed. "Almost three years. What about you two?"

They had paid for separate rooms; there was no reason to lie. But as Will was about to jump in and tell the couple that they were just colleagues, Emma beat him to it.

"We're on our honeymoon..." Emma shared with a gentle smile that just beamed with rehearsed pride.

"Oh, honeymoon!" Denise exclaimed exaggeratedly. "Are you going to start trying for a family?"

"Not yet..." Emma declared hopefully, and Will sat back, orange juice in hand as he observed the spectacle his ex-girlfriend was creating.

She seemed very, very comfortable. It had been obvious in the past that Emma had been infatuated with the idea of marriage and safety, but Will had assumed she was moving on from that now. She still refused to eat dairy and she was as organised as ever. But she seemed to have relaxed after four months of therapy and medication. She wasn't scrubbing each surface down with a toothbrush, and she didn't seem to be having trouble sleeping in a strange bed each night. Where was this coming from?

"Well at least you get the practice in, right? No better opportunity than a honeymoon!" Ben laughed as he nudged Will.

Will reached for Emma's hand. "Right!"

XXXX

"So I have to kiss it? After everyone else has?" asked Emma, her lips pursed in concentration.

"Em, it's tradition." Emma drew in a deep breath, but Will didn't hear her let it out. "Look, Emma. We've come all the way across the world to get here. Were at _the_ Blarney Castle, and I think you're really going to regret it later on if you don't kiss the stone."

Emma stood for a long while, watching the tourists bend down on all fours, roll over onto their backs, and inch their way towards the wall of the castle. Her eyes widened as an Irish assistant held a young boy, dangling his neck over the side of the castle to reach the protruding wall. There was a drop between the edge of the castle and the outer rim which the stone decorated.

Emma considered the value of the experience as she examined each tourist take their turn. She'd have to get down on her hands and knees upon an old blanket. She'd grip the bars which dangled over the side of the building and pull herself towards the stone, all while the elderly Irishman who acted as assistant would hold her for the safety's sake. And then she'd kiss the rock. Emma shuddered involuntarily.

But Will looked so excited. He hadn't stopped talking about the castle and the stone and the legend ever since they'd boarded the darn plane.

"Will."

He pivoted on the line, eager for his turn. "Yeah?"

Emma swallowed harshly. "I don't want him to touch me."

"Em, it's totally fine. Look, he's really nice."

She shook her head, a lump forming in her throat as they stepped up closer in the line. "Will, I can't."

She could dangle her upper body over a medieval castle and kiss a dirty old rock in exchange for Will's happiness. But she would absolutely not let a stranger hold her.

He nodded and stepped over to the man when it was his turn. He quietly shared Emma's request with the Irishman, who looked up to Emma with a smile and nod.

"I'll go first, Em...show you how easy it is."

Will laid down on the blanket, and Emma was almost so caught up in cringing at the thought of his white t-shirt getting dirty that she almost missed it.

There, on Will Schuester's lower back, was a tattoo. A dark, mysterious word that Emma couldn't read in the single second it took her best friend to roll over and bring himself to the edge of the castle.

He was strong, his biceps flexing as he drew his body out far and placed a sweet kiss on the face of the legendary rock.

She took photos for him, keeping the other eye open in the hope of catching another glimpse of his tattoo.

When it was Emma's turn, the man moved out of the way. Will knelt beside her, whispering words of encouragement as Emma rolled onto her back and scooted towards the edge of the castle.

Will's palm was warm on Emma's abdomen as he guided her neck over the edge with a strong hand. Looking up to the sky, she blocked out the thought of the ground so far below and craned her neck.

"I've got you." Will chuckled as she scooted herself closer to reach the stone with her face. "Emma, kiss the stone."

And she did.

Her mind was free of germy thoughts as Will held her, and pressing her eyes closed, she kissed the rock. The only thing that Emma could think was that Will had a _tattoo_; and she had never known. Why didn't she know that? How come she had never seen it?

At the base of the castle, they had lunch in the Blarney Stone Pub. It was well after lunch time, and so the cosy restaurant was very quiet, much to the liking of Will and Emma.

Later, they walked the grounds, the scenery reminding Emma of a scene from _A Midsummer Night's Dream. _Stepping beside Will, in the gorgeous surrounds of Blarney Castle, Emma felt real and pure. All her problems seemed not to be relevant issues when they were alone. Will accepted her completely, and she didn't have to worry about anybody else's opinion. They were just Emma and Will, and they could have been anything else they wanted to be.

She wanted to hold his hand as they walked, for things to be different. Ireland was romantic and lonely, and sharing Will's company so wholly and intimately was like a tease to Emma. They walked along sandstone paths and lush green grass, and for the long hours they spend wandering the fields, Emma felt perfect.

They spoke and listened to each other for close to an hour, and then Will seemed to stop sharing his thoughts. It was as though he had lost the ability to speak, and when he stared across the landscape they grew to appreciate each passing moment, Emma once again discovered that he was undeniably sexy. His profile was like no other she had ever seen. And those eyes. He was passionate and artistic, and she wanted to give herself to him in more ways than one. Yet, each time she considered making a move, her throat closed up and she felt a rush of dread run through her body.

_Was she anxious? Was she crazy? Was she tired?_

Will sat down toward the end of the windy trail, and Emma wondered for a passing second if he wanted to be left alone. He hadn't muttered a single word for close to half an hour of just walking, and that was unusual for a vibrant character such as Will's.

The breeze had settled, making the cold more enjoyable than it was at the highest point of Blarney Castle they had ventured to.

"It's so nice to not be rushed on this trip. To be able to just sit and take things in," Emma shared softly, counting to ten to regulate her breathing. Sitting on grass was not her favourite pastime. It seemed clean, though. And Will seemed so in tune with everything around him.

"It's perfect, really," he agreed with a sigh. "I'm just going to close my eyes for a second."

"I'll be here," Emma whispered, bringing her jean-clad knees to her chin as Will stretched his body out along the grass.

Will smirked, crossing his hands behind his head. "I know."

The second for which Will closed his eyes turned into twenty minutes. Emma didn't mind. They had nowhere else to be.

Emma watched Will; she examined the lines on his face and imagined what it would be like to touch them- to really trace his worries. His skin was soft, Emma remembered from the week before. His cheek against hers had felt warm and smooth as their hips pressed together against her open doorframe. When they returned to Lima such moments would never exist, Emma was sure of it. He was passionate in Ireland, because he was so inspired.

His eyelids fluttered a few times, and not wanting to be caught staring, Emma searched for a distraction. Beside the single backpack they carried with them each day, Will had rested his camera on the grass.

When the shutter beeped as Emma turned the camera on, she cringed, hating the thought of waking Will. Hopefully he could have a rest; he'd been driving each day and must be tired. There weren't many places to go in Lima and the travelling must have been as tiring on him as it was on Emma.

She scrolled through the photos on the screen. _A few of the grounds of the castle. Back to Blarney Castle. She flicked back on the touch screen. A photo of Emma getting into the car. The faint rainbow that had arched over the lone graveyard on the road to Blarney. Emma speaking to the hostess at the accommodation in Cashel. The breakfast room at Cashel. Emma walking in front of Will the night they had fought. A few shots of the main street of Cashel. A lake. Emma at Rock of Cashel. A few photos of Will at the Rock of Cashel. The grounds of Rock of Cashel. Emma standing by a window. _She continued to scroll and scroll. There were no more scenic photos for over two dozen slides. Just Emma, all around the rooms of the ancient Cathedral that sat high above Cashel. You could barely tell where they were. Close ups, long shots. It didn't matter. Will had adjusted the focus to solely recognise Emma, the background completely distorted_. _

XXXX

When they arrived at the Bed and Breakfast in Blarney that night, it was late. They had gone to dinner together in the heart of Blarney, and by the time they signed in that night, the reception lights were out. Figuring they had slept apart for the last two nights, Will took their suitcases to the same room.

The room was hot and tiny, and Will couldn't get the window to budge open. The thermostat seemed to have been turned on all day, and although it no longer hummed the heat bounced from the four walls of the small room.

Will tossed and turned. Emma tried not to move for the first twenty minutes, but the heat was too much and she couldn't handle the sweat between her breasts. After a while, Emma peeled the covers back slightly, and Will found relief in the only coolness they could control.

"You have a tramp stamp," Emma whispered as they lay awake together in the darkness of night.

Will chuckled. "Yeah."

Emma rolled onto her side, resting her warm cheek on her palm as her elbow pressed into her pillow.

"What...umm...What is it?" she whispered.

Will rolled onto his stomach slowly, lifting the back of his t-shirt.

Emma could barely make out the print in the darkness, but it appeared to be a trail of bold letters forming a word. She blatantly stared.

"It's really, really stupid," Will mumbled.

Emma smiled, curiosity gnawing at her mind. "Tell me."

"I feel the need to make something up," Will confided, the smile on his lips ringing through his tone. "When I was in my first year of college, I had this buddy who was Greek. He majored in Greek and I majored in Spanish. Anyway, one night we were really drunk and decided to make a bet to see who could..."

"Who could what?" Emma prompted.

"I don't want to offend you," Will murmured softly. He cared, and she respected him for it.

"You won't."

Will shifted closer to Emma, his shirt sliding its way further up his body as he slid upon the mattress. "Well, I was a virgin," he admitted in a whisper, as though the couple in the next room could hear them; lying awake, late at night, sharing secrets.

"It's okay, Will." Emma breathed. He could feel the warmth of her breath on his chin. "I don't mind. "Go on..."

"Well, we were young and stupid and trying to prove ourselves," Will started. "And so we made a bet that whoever lost their virginity last had to get a tattoo in the language the winner studied."

"You lost?" Emma guessed with a grin.

Will shrugged, his elbows digging deeper into the mattress as he propped up his upper body to tell the story. "I was trying to look cool, but I knew as soon as I bet my virginity that I would lose. But I didn't really loose in the end." Emma turned her head to face Will, gauging his relaxed expression. "I'd rather get a tattoo than cheat or sleep with someone just for the sake of a stupid bet."

Her heart soared as she listened.

"I went and got it right away- the morning after we made the bet," Will whispered. "I didn't tell him that I got it, but I knew he would win, because I just wasn't ready." Emma's chest hammered. She knew the feeling he described all too well. "As shallow as the whole thing seems, I'm kind of proud of it. It's a constant reminder that I did the right thing."

"But what does it say?" She whispered.

"Well, in keeping with the nature of the bet, George, my buddy, decided what it would read..." Emma raised an eyebrow.

He contemplated whether to share the truth with her. Yes. She wasn't a China Doll. She was a grown woman. He could be blunt with her.

"It says 'fuck'." He coughed. "In Greek."

The curse word brought a blush to her cheeks, and she kicked at the covers to cool her lower body.

When she stilled, she rested on her side again, facing him. He watched her, met her gaze that whispered of her confusion and empowerment. Gratitude for his honesty. Lust for his warmth.

He shifted, and her eyes fell from his down to the exposed tattoo on his bare skin.

Will watched Emma's eyelids flicker. She licked her lips.

Emma reached out slowly, tentative and cautious; at the first brush of her fingernails against his skin, Will felt his body flush with arousal. She traced the lines of each letter ever so gently, and Will's mind went foggy. She was gorgeous, alluring, and it was so darn hot.

She scratched his skin softly, raking her fingernails across print, the taut flesh of Will's lower back. Goosebumps erupted on Will's skin. Her gentle touch drove him wild, and he couldn't help but arch his back and press his hips into the mattress.

Emma didn't seem to notice, and her fingertips continued to caress his skin.

"I like it," she breathed heavily. He could taste her breath.

"It's crude," Will muttered, shaking his head in disagreement with Emma.

"No," she declared. "I would never have expected you to have a tattoo that said such a word." She flattened her palm upon his tattoo. "You're such a gentleman...it's astonishing."

He held back a moan at the pressure of her hand upon his skin. "Gentlemen aren't necessarily innocent," he suggested, his voice huskier than she had ever heard it.

"Mr Schuester," Emma giggled. "What are you trying to say?"

She held her hand tighter against him, and he sensed her desperation to hold on to such a flirtatious moment. They rarely let themselves flirt, but this was more. Her fingernails pressed into his lower back as her fingers slipped slightly. This was need; she was finally asking for something. "I'm trying to say that I'm...I'm not as perfect as you think I am," he whispered.

She shifted closer. "Neither am I."

He rolled onto his side to face her, and Emma's hand slipped from his back. Her fingers rested in the juncture between his ribs and hip. She could feel his pulse.

"This is good," he rested his head on his palm, mirroring her pose. "We're getting somewhere..."

She held her bottom lip between her teeth and tried to hide a smirk. _Was she hot and bothered? _Will wondered. He wanted more; her thoughts and worries. He wanted to see more; her tight, petite, naked body. He wanted to hear more; sounds she'd probably never made. "I guess we are," she flirted playfully.

"Anything else you'd like to share?"Will pressed.

Her bottom lip popped out, wet and pink. "Well, I guess we have a whole lot to share."

She felt dizzy. He felt desirable.

"You're not as innocent as you pretend to be, are you?" Will queried, his deep expression causing her heart to pound.

"No," she confessed. "I'm an expert at deflection." Emma exhaled, wiping her hand from his waist and setting it upon the mattress in the small space between their bodies. "It's tiring."

He wanted more. She wanted more. Neither of them sought to talk about her OCD. Her issues, his issues. They were past that. Neither of them had ever loved so deeply. But the subject had changed. The remaining barrier between them was the subject of intimacy.

Will swallowed. "I bet you've never said the word that's tattooed to my body."

_Yes, Will. Push me further. Encourage me. Want me. _

"I have. Once. In college," Emma admitted. "It tasted vulgar on my tongue...I felt guilty."

"The same way you feel when you're intimate with someone?" he challenged.

In two minutes he had done more work than her therapist.

"I don't know if I'm ready to work through these-"

"You are. I'm telling you that you are because you know it," Will whispered so calmly. "You aren't doing anything wrong when you're intimate with someone you care for. You're not disrespecting yourself, Em."

Emma looked down to the corner of his pillow. He couldn't possibly be any closer without their chests touching. "Are you talking about us?" she questioned with hesitance.

"Yes," he answered truthfully. "I don't want to get frisky, just yet." The way he said 'just yet' sent a shiver down her spine. "But we both know that it's going to happen, don't we?"His tone was softly certain and it comforted her; made up for her own hesitance.

"That we're going to end up together?" she asked, searching for encouragement.

"Yes," he nodded surely. "I want to go to bed with you Emma." Her eyes widened in the darkness and she felt her body flush with a welcomed heat. "In a bed just like this one." His hand covered hers upon the mattress, their fingers slipping against each others. "But the last thing we're going to be thinking about is sleeping," Will breathed and Emma's eyelids slipped shut. _Not yet,_ her mind reasoned. _Touch me,_ her pulse pleaded. "And I know that soon, you're going to come out of your shell and tell me you want the same thing."

Emma's form flushed with understanding.

Will hung his head low. He was giving her time, trying his hardest to be patient. "Try to say it," he requested.

Emma shook her head, her forehead almost resting upon his. Temperature was everything; her nightgown was the thinner of the three she had brought along on the trip. His body was warm, her panties were damp. "Will, I'm not ready..."

"Not that." He shook his head, raising his gaze. "I want you to read my tattoo...in English."

She focused her eyes upon him. "Why?"

"It's a step forward, and I think you need to take it."

She wanted to allow them to move forward. But if she took this step, she was promising to continue. If the vulgar word slipped from her lips, it would possess more power than a curse.

"Good night, Will."

He smiled. "Is it because Jesus is watching again?"

Emma laughed. "You know, it's a very funny thing that I won this trip through my church."

"Why is that?" asked Will.

Emma sighed quietly, a weight seeming to lift from her shoulders. "Because before that Sunday when I entered the raffle, I hadn't stepped inside a church for over nine years."

"And you won," Will smiled, his eyes expressing recognition of her perspective.

"And I won."

XXXX

For the three days after leaving Blarney, they visited the seaside town of Cobh and later Killarney, and ended up sharing a bed together both nights. The season was picking up with visitors and finding a room was few and far between. They had become accustomed to living together so closely, and Emma couldn't help but admit to herself that she felt safer with Will resting beside her.

When the third night rolled around, they were exhausted from their drive to Shannon on the west coast of Southern Ireland. It had rained for the entire drive until they stopped at a lonely pit stop in the side of the road. When Will called under a false name to see if vacancies were available, he was actually relieved that there were. The night before, he had rolled over in bed and snuggled Emma up in his arms in his sleep. When they had woken that morning, it had been slightly awkward to find themselves pressed together so closely. Will's palm had unconsciously rested upon the curve of Emma's breast throughout the night, and although the sensation had been warm and comforting, when she felt his unconscious arousal, she had stiffened in his arms. Emma had been very quiet at breakfast that morning, and so finding out they had separate rooms was a welcomed relief.

The tension in the car had been lighter when he got back to tell her they wouldn't be sleeping together that night. She had begun to laugh at little things he said and at one point, she even sang along with a song on the radio as they headed towards their accommodation.

And then the GPS died.

It was cold. Grey clouds rolled over head as Emma waited in the car, the dashboard heater wasting more petrol than that day's drive to Shannon. Will had the map spread out across the front of the car, holding the edges down as the ruthless wind pulled it from the flat surface. Emma watched his brow crease in confusion. He was cute. Adorable. Loyal.

The wind was cool on Emma's cheeks as she opened the passenger door.

"Will, do you need some help?" Emma asked as she stepped next to him.

"No," he barked quietly, not gazing up from the map.

"Okay, don't get snappy with me..."

"I'm not." He sighed, leaning over the map and tracing his index finger across a purple line. "I'm frustrated."

"Okay, take some deep breaths," Emma soothed.

Will clicked his tongue. "Emma, maybe you should just wait in the car. I need to figure this out."

She bent over the dashboard, leaning against him and pressing their shoulders together gently. "Hey, don't push me away."

Will straightened his back. "Why not? You do the same thing."

Emma swallowed harshly, the colour draining from her face. "I'm going to pretend you didn't say that," she muttered.

Will sighed, meeting her stare for a fleeting moment. Her eyes were warm, but they were dark with regret and promise.

He stepped aside as Emma mumbled her forgiving offer. "Let me look at it."

Emma never did figure the map out instantly as Will was afraid she would. He wanted to be the one to save them and get them off the back road and to where they needed to be. Eventually, they worked it out together.

"I've stopped trying to push you away." She muttered when they got into the car.

"Thank you."

Emma rested her head against the cold window and sighed.

"I'm tired, Will."

Emma went straight to her room when they arrived, opting to skip dinner. Will offered to bring her something from the kitchen when he was finished eating, but Emma thanked him with a tired smile, and let him drag her suitcase up to her room.

XXXX

"I need you to do something for me." Emma slurred, wobbling into Will's room.

Will had only gotten back from dinner close to half an hour before, and hadn't bothered to say goodnight as he figured Emma would have gone to bed immediately.

Apparently not.

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you drunk?"

She shook her head, almost tripping over Will's opened suitcase on the floor before she fell to sit on his bed. "Umm...yeah a little." He closed the suitcase as he watched her rearrange her seated position on his bed. "Remember that married couple we had breakfast with at that place...that Cashel?" Will nodded and Emma blinked more than once before she continued. "They're here too and they saw our names on the booking sheet. They left a bottle of wine outside my door. I guess they assumed it was our door."

Will leant against the closed door and shyly looked down to his bare feet. "Because you told them it's our honeymoon?"

"Yep." Her expression sobered for a moment, adopting a serious gaze. "I think they think we're havin' sex."

He grinned, casting a glance her way. "I think you're right." Her hair was a mess; she had removed his oversized sweater she had borrowed for their car trip. He tried to look away; her white singlet revealed too much. Her bra was gone; her nipples were pink through the thin fabric. She was drunk, loose, almost his. "Did you need something, Em?"

Emma sighed dramatically and lifted her palm to show him what she held in her grasp.

In her hand was the same marker she had used to label their toiletries into a gazillion bags.

"I need you to write on me," she explained.

His features contorted in utter confusion. "What?"

"I need like a tattoo, but I can't handle the thought of infections and the grossosity...grossity...grossness of ink draining into my blood, so this is the closest thing."

Will sighed and sat beside her on the mattress. "Emma, it was a stupid bet I made in college."

Before he could finish the sentence, Emma was up on her feet. Without her boots, she was a head shorter than him.

But Emma, in her intoxicated state, felt incredibly tall and confident.

And so, when she lifted her thin singlet up to her breasts and stepped towards Will, his breath caught in his throat.

At eyelevel with her covered chest, her naked belly begged for his attention as she stepped closer. His knees fell apart without permission, and suddenly, Emma was standing between his pyjama-clad legs.

"I think it would be a good idea if you wrote in Gaelic, because we're in Ireland," Emma suggested in a contemplative tone.

Will allowed his eyes to slip closed for a brief moment. _God_, her pale skin looked so soft. He just wanted to kiss her slim waist, run his tongue along her cute little belly-button. _Christ._ He wanted to taste her body. He opened his eyes, glaring at her semi-naked stomach. "Why are you doing this? Em, you're drunk. It may not scrub off for days. It's a permanent marker-"

"I need to get this done before I lose my virginity," Emma interrupted, looking down to seek his understanding. "Just like you did."

He raised his eyes to meet her gaze and sighed. It would probably be gone by tomorrow. He'd give in and take her back to her room. "What do you want me to write?"

'Buille an leathair,' Emma mispronounced.

Will tilted his head. "What does that mean?"

"What your tattoo says..." she whispered.

Will swallowed harshly. For a drunk, Emma was insightfully romantic. "This is silly." She only stepped closer between his knees, and he pulled back. She was insistent. He had to give in to her. "You're going to have to spell it for me."

She spelt the Gaelic phrase, and Will listened as he traced each letter onto her perfect skin with the back felt tip marker.

She closed her eyes and sighed, and Will listened as her breath hitched. She was so drunk, and he could smell the wine on her breath. But she was enjoying the sensation of the soft tip against her flesh.

It was erotic and decent. He loved her, and he was aroused. She wanted him to mark her, just as he was marked.

Will wrote on Emma, and as she hummed his name when he painted the final letters, she drew thicker circles upon his heart.

No one person could ever erase Emma's marking on Will's heart, but the lines he drew on her paled in comparison to her ever-evolving circles. A trap, and he was her prisoner. By morning, his art would wash away as she meticulously scrubbed to erase black ink.

His palm on her belly was warm. His breath on her belly was scorching. He felt her soft skin, appreciated the way it dipped slightly under the gentle pressure of the pen. He wrote below her belly button, and at the final press of the marker, Emma felt the heat between her legs sting.

When he finished, he placed his hands on her jean clad hips and only had one question.

"Why, Em?" he whispered as he looked down to the marker between his fingers. An artist's instrument.

Her hands fell to Will's shoulders as the cap of the pen clicked locked. "Because I have a feeling I'm not going to be a virgin for much longer."

AN: Thank you to all who have reviewed the last few chapters and one shots I've written these past few weeks. They mean the world to me.


	6. Chapter 6

He had never seen anyone as beautiful as Emma, particularly that Sunday at breakfast. Graceful, elegant, her brown eyes gleaming with strength. Not a single soul would have guessed that less than twelve hours before, her intoxicated state had Will practically carry her from one end of a hall to her room at the other.

Late that night, He had searched her bag for snacks she always carried during their day trips. He had fed her crackers and persuaded her to drink two glasses of water before she fell asleep. When he tucked her into her warm bed, the dark ink on her belly screamed at him through the thin material of her singlet. _Look at how this phrase suffocates you both, _the black letters screamed. Emma's eyes slipped closed, and within moments, she was asleep. He glanced down at the words on her abdomen one final time, knowing he would never see them again.

The next morning, neither mentioned what happened the night before. Emma was so relaxed and bright at breakfast, that Will wondered if she remembered anything at all. Had she showered and recognised the words on her skin?

Will finished breakfast before Emma, and as she read over the morning paper in the dining room, Will told her he had to make a phone call back home to his cousin and godson. Emma smiled as she always did each Sunday, Tuesday, Thursday and Friday. Will would whisper the importance of not letting Billy think that, like Billy's father, Will had slipped away from the child's life. Each time Will bashfully told Emma he had to make a phone call, she fell harder for him.

That day, Will skipped making the phone call. Instead, he slipped a note under Ben and Denise's door, thanking them for the wine. _It tasted delicious,_ Will had penned on the religious stationary of the bed and breakfast.

They left for their sightseeing after breakfast, bundled up in the warmer clothes they had packed. It was nearing the end of November, and the temperature was dropping dramatically by the week.

When they stood at the edge of a rotunda at a vantage point, Emma felt a shock of cold run through her veins. Lima would be just as cold, but that was home. The cold was expected. In Ireland, by the cliffs of the ocean, the wind was bitter when it touched Emma's cheeks.

It was nearing lunchtime, and there weren't many tourists around. Will could see a large group of tourists at the next vantage point, who probably had a better view of the cliff faces. But Will didn't mind. The rotunda was different, secluded. The day was foggy and the sky was grey, but Will managed to take some wonderful photos from his perspective.

Emma stood, looking over the cliff face as best she could from her position in the rotunda. Looking down, she could see the water foam and spray against eroded rock. It was extraordinary, like nothing she had ever seen. It was sad to think she may never have seen something so magical.

"I have this incredible need to ask you to marry me right now."

Emma spun around abruptly. She found his face was etched in seriousness, a passion that overwhelmed and frightened her.

She looked absolutely stunned. She swallowed, and Will realised his mistake.

"I'm sorry, I don't know why I said that," Will remarked, and he lowered the lens of his camera.

Emma shook her head. "It's okay."

When she turned again, they were silent. Her eyelids slipped closed, and Emma listened to the sound of the waves crashed violently. Amidst the gigantic splashes that made her eyelids flutter in fright, Emma heard Will step up beside her. _Splash. Crash. Smash._

"I'm in love with you," Will ventured. He sounded like a lovesick schoolboy who read too often. "You know that, right?" he whispered.

She nodded slowly. Her heart was in her throat. Her body felt heavy. Her fingertips were tingling. Was she having a panic attack? She couldn't remember what they felt like.

It didn't matter, because when she turned to tell him she needed to sit down, Will lunged forward and kissed her. She was in his arms, and he was holding her up. Her drained body felt revitalised, and she forgot her worries.

Her lips parted slowly, and as the tip of his tongue brushed hers, Emma gasped. Will moaned, and for the first time in their lives, they were truly intimate. A part of Will was inside Emma, thrashing against her velvet skin and tasting her pink tongue. The tongue that had delivered promises of devotion and apologies for not being perfect had finally met hers, and it was blissful. The cold wind which ravished the cliffs swept Emma's hair around her neck, but she was safe in Will's arms, his palm warm on her lower back.

A child's high pitched voice startled them, and Will pulled away from Emma, stepping over to the other end of the rotunda.

Emma sighed and rested back against the stone railing. Her lips tingled. He was a magnificent kisser; firm, hot, patient.

He seemed troubled as they stood apart, but when Emma met his gaze, she motioned toward the car.

They walked hand in hand across the gravel parking lot, and slid into their respective seats, locking the car doors.

And then it began. His fingers raked into Emma's curls, and their lips met once again. It was lazy and insistent, but a welcomed relief. They didn't know why or if it mattered, but there was an unspoken agreement to let reason slide for a few moments. Emma slid closer, Will grabbed at her waist to help her climb over the console.

But it was awkward and uncomfortable as Emma dangled one foot between them and another on her seat.

She pulled away, and Will sighed deeply. "We should stop," she whispered. He enjoyed watching Emma bite her bottom lip. "This is getting out of hand."

"I know," Will agreed. "I think we're just both really tired." He ran a hand through his hair as she sat back on her seat. "How about we go and get some lunch and then head over to Bunratty Castle."

"Another castle?" Emma groaned uncharacteristically. "Will, they're beginning to blur."

He chuckled. "Well, what about we just drive on then?"

Her expression lit up with panic. "But, Will, the itinerary states that we're booked in Shannon for one more night!"

"So let's skip paying attention to the itinerary for just one night. How about we go back to the Bed and Breakfast, grab our bags and check out. And tonight, we could find somewhere different...somewhere a little less Jesus-y. We could keep driving and then tomorrow night we'll be right on schedule."

"But we paid for separate rooms last night. We made it a rule not to do the same thing on two consecutive nights..." Emma insisted.

"Well, we could share a room to make up for it." Will shrugged. "It would be like usual, but this time in a proper hotel."

Emma grinned widely. "I'd like that."

Emma leaned forward to turn on the GPS, finding her balance with a palm on Will's thigh. When he flinched, Emma looked down to the strong muscle beneath her palm.

His eyes were dark, his pupils dilated. She traced the seam slightly, and pulled her hand away.

He coughed and turned to look out the window, finding the family of three laughing and taking photos, as the wind almost knocked the little boy over.

The only thing he noticed as Emma cursed the keypad of the GPS, was that the toddler in the rotunda had inherited auburn curls.

XXXX

"I enjoyed seeing the cliffs today," Will commented as he stirred his cup of Irish stew. "We've been spending so much time in castles and churches and villages that we've barely paid attention to the landscape."

"You're right." Emma shifted on the stone wall. "I've never seen the ocean."

Ennis was a very busy town. Restaurants were full that Sunday, so Will and Emma decided to grab two cups of Irish stew in a bakery, along with a large damper roll. They sat on a stone wall, finding others had opted to do the same thing. From the low barrier they seated themselves on, they could see the valley below, a smaller town thriving on the Sunday festivities. It was rare to find a town so busy on its only day of rest, and Will and Emma often made other plans for the day. Today was an exception. Ireland was alive with music and street dancing.

"Really?" Emma asked. "I went to California when I was thirteen." She shook her head at the memory. "It was so different to home."

Will pulled at the corner of the damper, and offered a piece to Emma. "How did you deal with the beach?"

Emma sighed as she circled her spoon in her cup. "I didn't, really." She accepted the bread in his warm hands. "I sat up on the pier and read while my family swam in the ocean." The soup was warm on his lips. Salty. Not nearly as delightful as Emma's kiss, but nonetheless delicious. "Sometimes I got a slushie."

Will shuddered jokingly. "Eugh...slushies. Please don't remind me."

Emma laughed. "Speaking of ice, it's getting really cold."

"Do you want my jacket?" Will offered, setting his stew down on the wall.

"No, I'm fine." Emma shook her head. "It's just the wind on my neck."

He unwrapped the scarf from around his neck, and gently wound it around Emma's naked neck. It smelled like Will, the scent she had woken up to each morning for three weeks.

"That was really cheesy, wasn't it?" Will smirked.

She looked down to the wool blue scarf around her neck. Her heart sang with supposition. She _was_ supposed to be with him. "Yeah." She couldn't hide the hint of happiness in her tone. "But cheesy is good." He watched her intently. "It's normal, like everyone else."

His brow creased as he listened to her softly spoken words. "We're not a cliché, Em."

"I know. But sometimes I wish that we were." She sighed, and looked up to meet his gaze. She looked tired in his eyes, the honest and only reflection which she considered real. "It would be easier than having to pretend that what we have is over." And then she looked away, to an elderly man dancing with his family.

Will scoffed lightly in agreement. "We're not doing a very good job of it."

She shook her head, a smile playing at her lips. "I've forgotten why we even bother."

She expected him to be smiling, but when she gazed up again, Will looked hurt. "Because you said you needed time," he explained. "And then you said you weren't trying to push me away anymore." He sipped his lunch, and Emma waited for him to finish. "And then you told me you didn't want to be a virgin for any longer."

"And then you kissed me," Emma whispered softly.

The light returned to his eyes.

"We've made a real mess," Will chuckled.

"But we love each other," she reasoned.

"That's all that counts at the end of the day, right?" Will smiled.

Her soft smile warmed his heart. When she opened her arms and moved closer, the denim of their jeans brushed. Emma leaned forward and hugged Will, his strong arms wrapping around her delicate body.

He could feel her warm breath on his neck. He felt cold. Warm. Cold. He couldn't decide. Her body held his tightly. Her tone was low, loving and lonesome when she raised her head to breathe against the shell of his ear. "I think all that matters is that you're sleeping beside me."

He ran his hands over her back. To hold. That was the phrase he would ask her to write on him.

XXXX

It was hours after dinner that they had finally allowed themselves to relax, back in the hotel room. The single room was spacious and modern, but it didn't seem right. There wasn't an image of a religious figure to be found on the cream coloured walls. It was different; comfortable. But far from refreshing. The sentiment Will associated with Ireland, was his fortune to feel right at home wherever they stayed; but that feeling was taken from him in their upmarket hotel in Ennis. The only piece of home he had was Emma.

When she stepped from the bathroom after her shower, a spray of steam seeping behind her, he realised it was okay to not belong every waking minute. Home would never leave him.

She padded around the room, boiling tea for the both of them with the only two teabags in the room. Writing songs relaxed Will, and so he found himself with a pencil in hand, sitting up against the bed head most nights of their trip. Emma was always considerate not to disturb Will, and when he looked up half an hour after she had finished showering, he found her sitting by the misted window writing on postcards.

She seemed to be lost for words to write.

"Writer's block?" Will quizzed. He watched the corners of her lips upturn slowly.

She giggled, and then sighed. "Yes."

He smiled and their gazes met. "I've got an idea," Will said, and he waved her over to the bed. "Give me a postcard."

She sat on the edge of the mattress and picked out her least favourite postcard. She didn't want to waste them. She often found him scribbling on pads of paper, and she had spent more than twenty minutes in a souvenir store that day, picking her favourite cards to send back home to Lima and Virginia.

He grasped the thin cardboard in his hand and turned it over, not bothering to look at the image on the front.

"You write me a postcard and I'll write you one."

Emma smiled and nodded and went back to her desk. She wrote about what they had spent their time doing for the last three weeks, highlights and adventures that had left them both in stitches. She didn't mention the important adventures like their stolen kisses and desperation to touch.

She finished and sat by Will, her back pressed against the headboard as their shoulders brushed.

He handed her his postcard, and she handed him hers. She smiled, and turned it over to read it.

_When I wake up well I know I´m gonna be, I´m gonna be the man who wakes up next to you. When I go out yeah I know I´m gonna be, I´m gonna be the man who goes along with you. If I get drunk well I know I´m gonna be, I´m gonna be the man who gets drunk next to you. And if I haver, yeah I know I´m gonna be, I´m gonna be the man who´s havering to you. But I would walk 500 miles, and I would walk 500 more, just to be the man who walks a 1000 miles to fall down at your door. When I come home, yeah I know I´m gonna be, I´m gonna be the man who comes back home to you. And if I grow old, well I know I´m gonna be, I´m gonna be the man who´s growing old with you. When I´m lonely, well I know I´m gonna be, I´m gonna be the man who´s lonely without you. And when I´m dreaming, well I know I´m gonna dream, I´m gonna dream about the time when I´m with you. _

Her heart had stopped somewhere between seeing his scribbled script flooding every blank space of the small postcard, and reading the words.

Emma swallowed, and looked up to Will, who was engrossed in reading her words. _How could he be so honest when she was so scared? _

"You have photos of me on your camera," Emma stated, watching his glasses fall to the edge of his nose.

He was focused on reading her slightly larger postcard, with its neater and smaller script. Still, he listened. "Yes."

Emma shifted on the pillow, watching his eyes. "Lots of photos of me." She watched the lump in his throat bob. Masculine. Couldn't he stop being a gentleman for one night and just ravish her?

"_Just me_," Emma stressed.

He glanced her way, his eyes clouded with pain; detailing his search for an explanation.

"I'm going to have a shower."

When he stepped out of the bathroom twenty minutes later, Emma was already in bed in her pale blue, flannelette pyjamas. It was close to midnight when he glanced at the flashing red numbers on the hotel clock, so he switched of the TV and lights, and slipped in beside Emma.

He thought she was asleep, but her gentle whisper after three minutes roused him from his thoughts. "I'm not leading you on, Will."

He remembered their kiss, her hand on his thigh in the rental car. She was conflicted, and he understood completely.

"Emma, I've never thought that."

At his words, Emma rolled over to face Will. He felt the mattress dip and so he shifted onto his side to meet her gaze. The world seemed right again.

"I've been feeling really comfortable lately...being somewhere so different," Emma whispered, her palm resting by her chin on her pillow.

Will's features were doused with tiredness. "That's great, Em. I'm so proud of you for seeing Dr Shane and working some things out."

Her expression was one of modesty, and she looked to Will for confidence. "She asked me something in my last session that's been weighing on my mind."

He nodded his head in question. "What's that?"

"Well," Emma started, "...we were talking about you and how excited you were to be going to Ireland. And then Dr Shane asked me if I believed you were excited to see Ireland or spend more time with me."

Will grinned widely. "I'm so happy to do both, Em. This has been one of the best experiences of my life."

She stroked the soft skin of her abdomen beneath the covers, allowing her fingers to slip beneath her flannelette pyjama top. "I'm really glad, Will." Her lips parted and then closed. Her mind was working at full speed. Her pink tongue poked out to wet her lips. He waited for her to continue. "She asked if I enjoyed spending time with you..." Emma confessed.

_See, Em. It's not so hard._ "I hope you said 'yes'..." Will prompted.

Emma chuckled. "Of course." Her next words came out rushed, as though they had been eating at her conscience. "The last thing she asked me was if I ever thought about spending more time with you."

Will shifted his palm on the mattress, and wondered just how close her fingers were. "We've been joined at the hip for nearly three weeks, Em."

She drew a deep breath. I have a feeling she meant more than that Will...She asked me to imagine what it would be like, if we were together...and if I liked that thought..." when she exhaled at the end of the sentence, Will breathed in her minty breath. God, he wanted to taste her. It was such an opportunity.

"Have you thought about it?" she asked softly.

_Yes,_ he wanted to say. _I can't help it. Every night and even during the day, I can't help but want to see you naked. I want to touch your ass and lick your breasts. It's been so long and I just want to be with you. We're together, practically married. I'd give everything just to kiss you between your thighs._

Instead, Will questioned her. "Have you?"

Her answer was quick, her explanation following so fast he could barely digest her admission. "Yes," she muttered. "But it's hard, and that's what I told Dr Shane. I don't really know what's supposed to happen. I mean, I know what goes on beneath the sheets..."Emma trailed off.

Will sought out her hand beneath the covers, but he never found it. "Nobody expects you to understand, Emma. It's okay."

Emma nodded. "She wants to help me work through my problems with being intimate, another person being so close." She shifted toward the middle of the bed. Emma was anything but subtle. "She wants me to imagine, but all I know is what I've learned from movies and books." Will swallowed. "And I know that's not what it's like." Her tone lowered. "It's icky."

_No,_ his mind screamed. _It's wet and hot, but never icky. I'll make you forget how dirty it is. I'll kiss you and hold you and do things to you you've never read of. I'll touch you and make you whimper. Cleanliness will be your last priority. I'll make you forget your name._

"It doesn't have to be icky," Will explained as best he could without frightening her. His mind swam with ways to teach her. One idea was illuminated while the rest basked in darkness.

"We could practice...you know, what it would be like." Emma's eyes widened at his words. "We could just keep things clean."

She felt reckless, empowered. He was doing this for another reason. He wanted her, and Emma liked knowing it. "How?" she asked quietly.

She wasn't turning away. There was a point of no return and she was offering to sit in the passenger seat. "Well, we could keep our clothes on..." Will suggested. "Maybe touch each other..." he added. "Anything you want."

She swallowed harshly. "Will, I don't know if I'm ready for that..."

He interrupted her thought process. "One day, I think we're going to be so much more." _Truthful words_, she mused. "But before that, before we get serious, it's important that you are okay with being closer to people." _Pull me closer, Will._ "It's a test run." _Will you touch me like you will on our wedding night? _"And if you need to stop, at any point, I'll be here to hold you when things get tough." _I'm going to try my best not to freak._ "You just say the word and we'll try again some other time." Will's hand found Emma's waist, and slipped. His fingers curled around her hip and he scooted closer. "Let me help you learn what you want..."

The most important thought escaped her lips. "I want you."

"Is there something that you'd like to do?" he whispered.

"I'd like to kiss you again," Emma confessed, her tone littered with honesty. "The way we kissed today."

Will nodded and shifted closer, making sure to not press his body against Emma's. Their kiss that morning had been heated, and he remembered the way his body had reacted. If the same happened, he didn't want to frighten her.

She was nervous, Will could tell. Most of their kisses had been fuelled by passion and boiled lust. They were waiting for the other to make a move.

Her lips pressed against his. His body hummed in satisfaction. _Part your lips; I want to really kiss you. The way you want to be kissed. _Their lips moved against one another's. His palm travelled over her back. Soft flannelette on his fingertips. Her warm tongue sliding against his.

When they pulled away to breathe, Emma's head was spinning.

"I've never done this before..." she mumbled, and his lips swayed against hers. He wanted more, and she returned his soft kisses. "I don't know the steps," his lips sucked her lower one softly, interrupting her, "the steps that build up to making love."

He sighed against her flesh. "It doesn't matter, Em."

Emma pulled back, her fingers travelling over his bicep to reach his neck. "It does. I want to be able to imagine what it feels like to be with you." She curled her fingers around his neck. "To feel attracted in that way..." her fingertip traced his Adam's apple. It bobbed beneath her touch.

He was done for. He'd never been so deeply in love.

"You don't have to hide from me..." he whispered.

Her heart raced. "I'm not."

"You are," Will insisted seriously. "You're telling me you've never been aroused." Emma's face reddened. "I know you have." He watched her eyes flicker, and tried to focus. Her lips were swollen from his kiss. "You were practically panting the other night when you made me write on you."

She ducked her chin. "I was drunk..."

He pressed himself against her. "Madonna." She remembered it well. "Rocky Horror." She had thoroughly enjoyed the rehearsal. "You want me." She blushed. He ran a hand up her thigh. "What feels good?"

The dog days were over. "When we tried...that time in your apartment...before I ran out..."

"You liked what we were doing?" Will questioned.

She raised her gaze to meet his. "Yes."

"Is that what you want to do? How far we went that night?" he peered into her brown eyes, glassy with trepidation.

"Yes. But keep going..." Emma insisted.

It was slow and sensual, the way he pulled away from her lips and unbuttoned her shirt with trembling fingertips.

"We'll go slowly, okay?" he muttered when he slid the flannelette down her arms and tossed it to the edge of the bed. She was half naked, lying beside him. Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths.

Will touched Emma, but only with his fingertips. The room was dark, but his hands assisted his eyes as he learnt her small frame. Goosebumps rose on her velvet skin, and Will pulled the covers up over her chest.

She was soft, _god_, unbelievably soft. Nothing had ever felt nicer, and Will excitedly dreaded the day he would be inside her body, having to hold out long enough to pleasure her. It would be the best form of torture.

He traced her curves, and after a long time, after Emma's eyes had slipped closed and her body was no longer shaking, he touched her breasts. She sighed, and his warm hands held her breasts, feeling them beneath the covers.

His arousal hardened when his fingertips brushed her nipples the first time. He made himself shift slightly so she couldn't feel it. He couldn't disturb the moment.

"Oh God," she whispered when his thumb traced her nipple. And brush strokes made her moan. _Back and forth. Back and forth. _He wanted to lick her soft skin, trace the curves as he imagined so many times before.

"I take it you liked that," he smirked when his fingertips ceased their torment. Emma drew a deep breath.

"I've never felt that way before..."she confessed as his hand rested over her abdomen. "Why did you stop?"

He counted to ten in his head. "I didn't want to take things too far..."

She rolled onto her side, and her expression was relaxed with a dreamlike quality. "I could have done that all night."

Will laughed softly.

"The feeling just kept getting better and better," Emma added. "And when you think it can't get any better, it does."

It did, he remembered. At the peak of her arousal moments before, she had been pleasantly confused, her skin hot to his touch. Her skin. Her breasts. He wanted to feel the tiny mounds in his hands again.

"We should probably get some sleep," Will murmured.

With a kiss to his cheek, Emma scooted closer and agreed.

She was awake for a while, Will knew. She shifted in his arms and rolled onto her side, and then onto her back.

She was frustrated by want, arousal and denial. He wanted her to want it, though. More than anything, Will needed her aggravation to consume her. Then they could both move on, together.

XXXX

Pushing open their hotel room door the next morning, he found the blankets bundled up around Emma's shoulders. When the lock clicked shut, her eyelids fluttered open. Their gazes met, and she smiled. Her hair was dishevelled as it was every morning, but her features held a wanton desire that radiated confidence across the room to where Will stood.

The cardboard cups were warm in his hands, but Emma pulled the covers up over her naked chest as she sat up against the headboard.

"There isn't a dining room here, so I went and got us some breakfast from down the street," Will explained, handing Emma a tea and allowing the paper bag to slide from its hold in his elbow and onto the bed. Emma reached forward to open the small bag, blinking wordlessly to render the tiredness from her foggy mind. Warm scones and jam.

"Thank you, Will," she smiled softly.

He gazed at Emma for a moment, her eyes glued on the breakfast he had ventured out into the cold to buy her. Her shoulders were bare, freckled naked skin. He was certain that at any moment she would realise her nakedness and scramble to find her pyjama top.

He removed his thick coat and sat down beside Emma on the bed, her mind deep in concentration as she searched for something. _Here it comes_, Will thought. _She isn't comfortable, she needs to cover up. _

"Is there a plate or something, Will?" she asked.

His eyes widened. There was a god.

When he stepped over to the kitchenette, he watched her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes closed, and she glanced down at her chest. She seemed nervous. Will fondled with the plates, giving her a moment to compose herself. He was rooting for her, she could do it. With a single tug of the bed sheets around herself, he watched her draw in a deep breath, open her eyes, and smile.

"Breakfast in bed?" he queried as he turned around. The corners of her mouth upturned in a smile. He was proud of her.

She nodded.

"It can be a week of firsts," he suggested, and then realised his mistake. Emma grinned, and Will looked away bashfully. He hadn't intended for his comment to be taken so directly. And he certainly wasn't expecting their relationship to grow so quickly. He was referring to the night before, how he had touched her so closely. He wasn't alluding to going all the way. But Emma was smiling widely, and all he could do was blush.

"It was nice waking up this morning..." Will shared as he spread blackberry jam onto a steaming scone.

"You wake up every morning, Will." Emma giggled, taking a bite out of her own scone.

He drew patterns against the cardboard of his coffee cup with his thumb. "Today was different."

She had been wrapped up in his arms, her petite body warm and soft against his larger form. He had woken to find his fingers splayed across her naked ribcage, his arousal strong against her behind. Emma had shifted in her sleep, slowly moving away from him and rolling over on the mattress. Still, his hand had brushed over her body, and when she was content in her new position of sleep, his palm had rested upon her smooth lower back. Warmth. He never wanted to feel the cold again. If hell grew fires, he'd be happy to spend his afterlife there.

"I wish we'd have woken up together," Emma confessed, her bottom lip caught between her pearly teeth. She reached forward for the paper bag, resting her tea upon the bedside table. "We have one week left..." she mused, taking a delicate bite out of her scone.

Her tongue slipped out to lick the traces of blackberry jam. He watched her pink flesh, remembered how it felt against his own. Wet. Hot.

Will's coffee fell from his grasp, and Emma shifted upon the mattress before he grabbed it quickly, sighing in relief to find only a few drops on the dark bedspread.

When Will looked up to find Emma's calmed expression, he found something even more breathtaking. The covers had slipped lower, revealing her naked chest. She didn't flinch, and Will told himself not to stare at her perfect nipples in the light of day.

"Let's make the most of it," he muttered, his throat too tight to finish his first coffee of the day.

Emma smiled, and didn't reach for the covers.

XXXX

AN: The next chapter is going to be explosive. BAM. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this one. To those who review, it's so important to hear from you, so thank you very much!


	7. Chapter 7

Three days after Ennis, Will and Emma had woken in a tiny town on the north-west coast of Ireland.

They had travelled a great deal of the west coast of Ireland, and driven more in three days than they had for the entire trip, which left them both exhausted at the end of each day. But Emma was adamant to stick to the itinerary, and so, they kept going. They had spent two nights in various places on the west coast, and they were beginning to miss home. Knowing that they were flying home from Belfast in just five days left them excited and regretful. Had they wasted potential alone time? Had they grown closer? Would they ever get over the undeniable lust that consumed them?

When they woke that morning, they knew they only had a few hours before they would have to be on the road to make it to their next bed and breakfast. Finally, they would be visiting The Giant's Causeway, a natural wonder Will hadn't stopped talking about since the day she had won the prize trip. Will was excited all morning, rushing Emma out of gift shops and insisting that if they didn't leave before a certain time, they would miss seeing The Causeway at sunset. Emma assured him that 'it would be okay, they would see it the next day', as they had the whole day free to explore the wonder. It was against her nature to be so relaxed, but she knew they had an extra night at the Bed and Breakfast close to The Giant's Causeway. Still, Will was pushing to get in two nights, and arrive early that day to take a glimpse before they spent the next day there, properly exploring. He reminded Emma more than once about photo opportunities; if that day's sunset was hidden behind clouds, at least they would have next day. But if the next day's setting sun was hidden behind smoky grey, at least he would have the winning pictures from the previous day's sunset. His obsession with photography had not changed, but their obsession with something else had.

They no longer spend nights apart, even when were vacancies at their accommodation. They didn't worry about sleeping too close, or the limited space between them on the mattress. Before, they had always wished for separation. Instead, they began to loathe the amount of space between them in bed. The metre that had always seemed like inches was suddenly miles wide, and they couldn't stand to be further apart. Sighting Emma's bra in her suitcase not longer made Will unpleasantly uncomfortable. And always, always, they signed in as Mr and Mrs Pillsbury.

XXXX

They had been driving for less than an hour when Will stopped the car. It was only early in the day, before noon, but the sky was a dark grey and did not resemble the bright mornings they had been fortunate enough to enjoy the past week. They were on their way to The Giant's Causeway, and Emma would have expected Will to be a tad more excited. But he had gone into one of his moods.

It was odd, and a character trait Emma never knew Will possessed. In Lima, Emma had only ever met performer Will, teacher Will, and friend Will. They were cheerful, bright characters, and even when Sue had managed to bring him down to his worst, he had never turned into such a calm character.

He wasn't angry or depressed when he fell into a mood. Rather, Will was quiet and calm, and incredibly delightful. A mystery of silence would fall upon his shoulders, and his mind would escape while his body continued its existence. Emma thought it was odd, but incredibly remarkable. A man with such energy would allow another self of his to dissolve for moments, sometimes hours. For too long would have been torture for Emma, but graceful moments were a blessing.

When Will murmured that he wanted to take some pictures, Emma glanced around the outside of the car and realised that they had stopped by a cemetery. Emma smiled and decided she needed to stretch her legs.

Will took off with his camera towards the small graveyard, and Emma waited by the car. The air was cold when it first hit her face, but it was colder after fifteen minutes. He still wasn't back. He had rushed her all morning. She decided it was only fair to rush him.

Emma found Will in the third row of headstones, squatted before one of the older graves. The ground was spongy, dirty and threatening. It offered to swallow her up, but Emma stood tall and made her way across the graveyard and closer to Will.

"Will, this is disgusting." The heel of her boot dug into the sunken earth. "Will?"

His gaze was trained on a headstone. When she looked closer, Emma found the headstone to read of a morbid fatality. Will was standing over the grave of an infant and mother, both murdered by childbirth.

"That would just be the worst thing," Will whispered, and Emma raised her gaze to watch his distressed expression. "It makes me feel nauseas thinking about it." He was so passionately set in reality. "That poor man."

Emma thought for a moment. "This may sound ridiculous to you," Emma started, "but I feel that maybe you can sympathise...because you experienced a very similar loss." Will looked up and glared sweetly into Emma's eyes. "Your relationship with Terri died the same day you lost your baby girl."

Will swallowed, and his pupils dilated. "You remembered she was a girl?"

"Of course." Emma wrapped her open coat tighter around her petite body. "She haunted my dreams, Will." Will looked frightened, as though he had seen a ghost. Emma couldn't smell death like he seemed to be able to. She could smell the wind, and the leather of Will's new jacket."Your little blonde girl scared me."

"Why?" he prompted without falter, and he stood to stand by Emma.

"Because she kept me from you," Emma selfishly explained. "I was school-girl-crazy over you, Will. And she made me believe that my vision of our child would never exist."

"With red hair."

"Yeah," Emma agreed. "Red curls." Her heart sighed for her dream of their future. A possible future. But Will had a past.

"I'm so sorry you lost her," Emma strained to speak.

Will's stare became wider, impressed by honesty and truth. "It was darker than it appeared on the surface," he divulged. He looked down to the headstone before him, his eyes wide. "She would have been perfect." Emma gulped and nodded, but Will didn't notice her agreement. "All I ever wanted was to be a father," he whispered to the headstone, as though the love of his life were buried beneath his feet. "And then I fell for you," he spoke. _I'm not dead_, Emma's soul cried out. _Love me, fight for me. I'm here and I need you._ "And everything changed," Will softly confessed.

Emma didn't know what to say. She wanted to hold him, but he scared her. She didn't understand such passion, and if she tried, she was afraid it would overwhelm her and she'd die of loneliness.

"Come on, Will. Let's go," Emma insisted as she began to turn away. "If we don't keep driving, you'll miss seeing The Causeway at sunset."

His hand reached out and grabbed Emma's, his strength undeniable. He seemed powerful. There hadn't been a car for miles. A ridiculous thought fluttered through her mind as she felt the pressure of his fingertips press into her wrist._ He could do anything to you out here. He could murder and bury you and you'd never be found. _

Emma met Will's gaze, and he brought his palm to her jaw line, caressing the skin protecting her delicate bones.

"I've never seen anyone that looks like you," Will murmured, and Emma blushed profusely. "You have confused me for so long." Her head felt heavy, and in Will's sorrowful eyes, she found desperation. "And now I can finally say that I love you." Her heart pounded beneath her ribcage as she met his stare. "Do you love me?" he prayed with question.

She swallowed. "Of course."

Trust.

"When we get back to Lima, I'd like you to move in with me, Em," Will pleaded, his tone calm. The fire burned bright in his eyes. "If you want to."

She wanted a life. But more than existence, she wanted a future with Will. "Okay."

He nodded, his expression expectant and only allowing relief to glisten in his watery eyes. "Okay." His frame stood taller and straighter. "Let's go."

XXXX

They ate the lunch they had bought that morning after breakfast, at a tiny bakery by their bed and breakfast. They ate while driving, and didn't stop until well after midday, when they reached a rundown road stop off the main highway.

"Hi. Can I have two teas? One black with no sugar and the other with milk and two sugars."

The young boy at the counter flashed a flirtatious smile at Emma. He was gorgeous, Irish, and so awkwardly young. Emma grinned. He appeared to have found himself a temporary crush.

Emma looked down to her shoes. No male student at McKinley had ever looked at her that way. And she was always dressed to impress at school. Always incredibly professional. She didn't look attractive standing in a road stop in jeans, a thick coat and barely any makeup.

When she looked up, the blonde boy was watching her from his peripheral vision, a smirk tugging at his lips as he poured Emma's order. He raised his gaze to outside, watching sneakily through the window as Will chatted away on the phone. It was obvious Emma was travelling with Will, and it was obvious the boy was making sure Will was out of sight.

"You look a lot younger than your husband." The boy played, his accent strong and slightly different to that of Southern Ireland. "How old are you?"

The child was confident. Emma swallowed, and stuffed her hands into her coat pockets. "He's tired. And I'm twenty-three," Emma lied.

"You like American men?" He asked as he handed Emma one cup.

"I like him." A blush rose to Emma's cheeks. "And you don't know he's American."

The young man smiled widely, and winked. He had nerve, but Emma enjoyed the attention. He accepted the change Emma gave him and handed her the other cup, 'And that one's for your husband."

She bit the insides of her cheeks and pursed her lips in a smile. Ireland seemed to offer many opportunities.

When Emma stepped outside, Will still had his cell phone pressed against his ear and a thousand watt smile slowly drifting across his expression. She wondered if he looked that happy when she was on the other end of the line. She had been speaking to him all day, but he had been withdrawn and quiet. Speaking to his cousin Alice always made him happy.

Emma waited patiently until Will hung up.

"How was she, Will?" Emma handed him his tea, and they took a seat on one of the wooden benches outside.

"She's great." Will looked down to the lid of his tea and his eyes lit up. "Billy keeps asking for me, apparently."

Emma smiled. One day he would make a wonderful father. He already cared so much for his family. A family of his own creation would surely bring him to his knees in joy.

When the door swung open and the young boy who served Emma emerged, Will's arm instinctively shot out to rest upon the back of the bench. Possessive. Emma's heart swelled. It wasn't her imagination. Emma could feel Will's fingertips gently tracing her shoulder. Had Will watched the encounter inside the store?

"I don't think we're going to make it to The Causeway before close, Will," Emma commented. She could feel the boy's eyes on her as he gathered litter off a table nearby. He obviously liked older women. There was no way he believed she was twenty-three. He would know. He looked barely eighteen.

"It's okay," Will shrugged. "The weather isn't spectacular, anyway."

Emma felt that Will's gaze was trained on the boy. She liked feeling wanted when there was nobody to hurt.

"I get the vibe he likes your hair colour, Em," Will chuckled, "I get the feeling he likes it quite a lot." Emma blushed. The boy couldn't stop looking at her, a flirtatious and daring grin too old to be found on his teenage expression.

Will felt strong, empowered in contrast. He sipped at his milky tea. "Maybe I should tell him you're my wife," he suggested.

Emma smiled and shook her head. "Now that would be silly."

XXXX

The rain pelted wildly against the window.

They had arrived after four pm and decided that they weren't willing to brave the rain in order to see the Giant's Causeway at dark. Settling in after dinner, they watched a movie and snuggled up in bed, a space between them that persisted all night. Two was company, and three was a crowd. Their good friend, Tension, rested between them as they laughed at an American comedy film. Tension decided to stay when the lights were out and the rain was louder against the foggy glass of the window.

"What's it like Will?" Emma mused, resting awake beside Will. His arms were folded behind his head, his biceps bulging against his grey undershirt.

He turned his head, to cast a smile her way. "What?"

She glanced towards the ceiling. "Making love..."she trailed off.

Silence was theirs. "_Emma,_" He stressed her name. "It's one of the most beautiful acts on earth."

He felt Emma shift on the bed, and she swivelled her hips to get comfortable, Tension taking up too much of the shared space.

"If we made love...what would happen?" she gushed as she met his gaze. Will continued to glare at her until she insisted, "Tell me."

"Well, we'd kiss," he whispered, his voice slightly husky. "And we'd hold each other." He paused. "And then we'd move together."

"Uh huh." Emma rolled onto her side and gave him her undivided attention. "But what would really happen?" she cutely pressured.

He cleared his throat. "We'd kiss."

"You already said that," Emma countered with a grin.

"I'm not finished." Will shifted onto his side to face her before he continued. "We'd kiss. You'd kiss my lips, my chest, and my arms. And I'd kiss you _everywhere_. We'd go slowly at first, work our way up to it," Will assured Emma. "I'd touch you, and-

"Where would you touch me?" Emma interrupted.

Will closed his eyes. He drew a deep breath and felt the air catch fire in his lungs. "Between your legs. Where it feels really good."

A whimper escaped her lips. It was crazy. She wanted his thigh between her legs. She needed pressure. "Would it make you feel good?" she questioned.

"Yes. And you'd be able to feel how wonderful it made me feel." Her eyelids fluttered. She knew what he meant. "Maybe I'd take your hand, and guide it down, to touch me." He couldn't stop. "You'd wrap your legs around my waist, really tightly. I'd push into you, over and over again. You'd moan once, and then I'd try to make you scream."

The breath caught in her throat. Her insides twisted with awakening. "Scream?" she repeated.

"Yeah. Because it would just feel so unbelievably good." Their gazes met, and they began to stare. "You'd say my name. Over and over again. And each time you whispered it, I'd say yours. Your hands would be on my back, or my arms, or in my hair."

Her brown eyes begged him to comply. And then he muttered, "And that's what it would be like."

"Will, would I have an orgasm?" she ventured without a beat, her face flushed red.

"I'd hope so."

"Is it always the same?" Emma whispered in question.

He shook his head upon the pillow. "No. Sometimes it's gentle...sometimes it's rougher."

There, he had stated the facts bluntly. She scooted closer to his warm body.

"What's best?" she posed, capturing her bottom lip between her teeth. "What do you like?" she whispered.

Her cheeks were bright red, but he loved her shy self for trying.

She watched his expression. If he said he liked gentle sex, that would keep her sane, but also bore her. If he said he liked it dirtier, rougher, wilder, she would find a part of herself she had kept secret for so long.

Will looked down to the space between them. "I like it both ways," he murmured.

Will gazed up into Emma's eyes, and her heart swelled. It was maddening, the way they thought and wanted so much. Things used to be simple, but spending so much time together had developed them both. Her body was hot, and she could feel a layer of sweat resting upon her upper lip.

His hand reached for Emma's, and she flinched.

"I think I need a shower."

"Em, you already showered..." he argued softly, but Emma was already on her feet.

"I need to shower again," she mumbled as her bare feet padded across their bedroom floor, and the bathroom door locked behind her. The room was in darkness for a few minutes, until Emma finally flicked the switch in the bathroom and light seeped from under the bathroom door and fought for dominance with the moonlight.

She thought of him out there in the big bed, alone and confused and frustrated as she unbuttoned her pyjama top before the mirror. Her fingers clutched the side of the vanity as she undressed. He didn't deserve to be toyed with, she cursed herself. Turning the knobs of the shower delivered a clean spray, and once again, Emma was safe.

The door handle clicked. Open, and then shut.

He was in the bathroom with her. Her pyjamas were piled on the vanity. And she was so naked.

Emma stood against the far wall of the shower. _Perhaps he's just washing his hands_, she pondered. _He won't pull back the shower curtain._

She closed her eyes tightly. She wanted it to be over.

The spray of the shower was so loud that Emma didn't hear the metal rings of the shower curtain scrape against the metal rod.

When she opened her eyes, Will was standing before the shower.

Her eyes widened, and she watched him step inside.

He stood at the opposite end of the shower, and his gaze fell on her. He could barely breathe. It didn't even register in his mind that he was still wearing his t-shirt and boxers, and they were saturated with water.

His eyes were narrowed and dark, and in his gaze, Emma saw herself as both limited, and incredibly alive.

Her body was like no other he had ever seen. Her breasts were small; he had felt those days before. He hadn't stopped thinking about how soft they felt in his hands. But the rest of her body was divine. Her waist was slim, almost too slim. Her arms were delicate and fragile. But her thighs were strong, womanly and seductive. The freckles. The pale skin. The pink flesh between her thighs. Will had never been subjected to such torture.

They watched each other. Neither moved.

"I'm so obsessed with you," Will whispered, and they stared, long and hard.

_Yes, you are_, Emma reasoned with herself. He was obviously aroused. His boxers were tented, the wet material latching onto his length. She knew what lay beneath. She wanted to see it. She wanted to see it _hard_ and _throbbing_. All because of her.

The shower steam swam around her head. She felt drugged. He felt dead in the most lively way.

Emma bit her lip, and ran her tongue along the captured flesh. She glanced down at his arousal, blatantly staring. His own gaze was fixed between her legs, where her thighs met. Where he wanted to bury himself.

_Come and get me_, she eyeballed him. She pushed herself off the far wall, and slipped from the shower stall.

There was no way he could have gone back to the room in the state she left him, especially if she was offering kisses and touching and so much more. When he heard the door click shut, Will touched himself. And with the new image Emma had presented to him minutes before, it wasn't difficult to find relief within minutes.

He wrapped a towel around himself and stepped back into their bedroom. The lights were out but for the moonlight spilling through the window. He glanced over to the bed. Emma was so cocooned by the covers that Will couldn't see her face.

He was leaning over his suitcase in search of a clean t-shirt when Emma's voice caused him to look up.

"Will."

Emma was settling herself against the headboard, her hair wet, the covers low. Naked.

Her eyes whispered that it was okay. His heart screamed something else. _She's being strong. Don't push her too far. She's too incredible._

He walked over to the bed, holding the towel to his body. He didn't want her to see him yet. She was just getting comfortable with herself. She didn't need the added worry.

She watched him as he sat on the edge of the bed, his back to her. He undid the towel slowly, pulling it away from his lower half. Emma gulped at the sight of his behind. Smooth. So handsome, and so masculine. Her boyfriend. Hers.

He pulled the covers over his naked body, and he turned to her, his bareness hidden beneath the blankets and sheets.

He didn't hesitate to pull her close._ Don't think, just do it_, he repeated to himself as their naked bodies touched completely. With his gentle hold, he tried to convey that touch was all that mattered.

Gathered in his arms, Emma felt tiny and protected. Safer than ever before. Just that day in the graveyard, she had almost been scared of him. His thighs pressed against hers, his nipple bushed against the curve of her breast. His chin rested on her forehead. Still. Until he moved, and she felt his length press against her thigh. It felt warm and soft. Skin. Fleshy skin. Nothing to be afraid of. But they had kept it so secreted that the most receptive part of his body came to represent _everything_.

Her knees shook.

She was about to say that it was too much. She couldn't move any further.

But he pulled away from her before she could protest, and it angered her. He presses a kiss to her head and moves away. Anger boiled in her blood. Did he not trust her? He knew she was about to pull away? Did he have no faith in her?

She was a hypocrite.

She was desperate.

XXXX

**AN:**_ Well, well! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It wasn't as bam! as I said it would be, but that's now up next chapter. And thank you very much to everyone who reviews._


	8. Chapter 8

She could hear the shower running. Hot water, she guessed. Steam always clouded the mirror each time Will left the bathroom. She imagined the spray of the shower cascading over his naked form, the bare body she had watched the night before as they stood at opposite ends of the shower.

Lying awake in bed, Emma spied sunshine pouring through the slits of the window blinds. _Will must be so pleased that it's a nice day_, Emma mused. He had anticipated this day for weeks. She was so excited for him. He was probably grinning in the shower, most likely unable to wash the smile from his lips. Emma loved seeing Will happy, and as of last night, she realised that she enjoyed seeing and feeling him naked, too.

She glanced over at the clock. Nine thirty-two, the bold numerals read. They were late. Housekeeping was in half an hour.

At least she didn't have to shower, she thought as she scrambled out of bed in a panic. She hated showering in the morning, the weather was cold and it always took too long to dry and style her hair. Her hair had grown longer, and whether it really was or wasn't, Emma was certain it was healthier. Surely she could go without styling it for one day. It would be windy at The Causeway, there was no point. She didn't have time to think about her hair.

The water was still running.

She couldn't find her skinny-legged jeans. Emma flipped through her neatly folded clothes in her suitcase. She couldn't remember the last time she'd worn them. At the Blarney Stone. She'd worn them at the Blarney Stone when they sat on the dirty ground. They had needed washing. Will had done a load of washing at their bed and breakfast in Shannon. The washing was in Will's bag.

The water stopped running.

She sorted through his messy suitcase, hoping that her jeans weren't creased. When she spotted black denim, she pulled them from the pile. Making a mental note to rearrange Will's disordered suitcase, Emma pulled her tight jeans over her calves. She froze.

There, on the ground, was a ring box.

Emma pulled her jeans to her hips and reached down for the fallen box that had toppled from Will's bag in Emma's haste to find her jeans.

She contemplated opening the jewellery box. But when she saw the branded label on the top, she couldn't stop herself. Waterford Crystal. Will had bought April jewellery. Expensive jewellery.

When she flipped the lid quietly, anger flared in her blood. Her grandmother's ring. For April Rhodes.

The bathroom door opened, and a fully-clothed Will stepped out, towel drying his brown, wet curls.

When he looked up, his eyes widened. Emma's lips parted, and her eyes filled with tears.

"You bought my grandmother's ring for April Rhodes!" she gasped, her tone creased with disappointment.

Will swallowed. "What?"

Her nimble fingers slammed the box shut, and it snapped in her hand. "I found it in your suitcase!"

He shook his head. "That ring is for you!"

Her eyes widened. "What?"

Will's tone was calm, but his heart raced with embarrassment, so he cleared his throat. "It's your ring, not April's."

It was silly. Will cursed himself for not hiding the ring box between folded socks. She had thought her ring was for April. She was hurt, bruised. She wanted a future, and everything a ring promised. She wanted a gift that spoke about generosity and selflessness. She wanted it all from Will. And she looked absolutely crestfallen. Will's heart soared.

"Why would you buy me a ring?" she asked sarcastically, disbelieving Will's story.

_Because I love you. _

"Because we both know that this is it for us, Emma," he tried so honestly. "I'm going to marry you and you're going to marry me."

Her eyes widened, and she could feel her limbs shaking. Faintness consumed her.

"You don't know that!" she remarked quietly. Her head was clouded with possession. _The ring is mine. It's all mine. _

He nodded, and a gentle smile played at the corner of his lips. "Yes, I do."

Her throat was tight. She hated confrontation. "Maybe I don't want to be married again..." Emma whispered softly.

Will paused for a moment. She was lying. She wanted it all.

"Please, this whole trip, you've just loved playing this game," he retorted as he took her in. Why did she have to be so cute? She was so different in Ireland. Relaxed. Darker. "You're infatuated with the idea of marriage," Will professed.

Emma drew in a breath. It was too early in the day. "I am not!"

He nodded with certainty. "You are." From across the room, she could read his dark eyes as they glared at her. Knowing her so well. "And I'm infatuated with the idea of us."

She hesitated, searching for a retaliation to remove the blame from her part. "Well, I've told you that I'm ready!"

"No you haven't!" he hissed.

Her breathing was erratic. "I make it...I make it so darn obvious!" she stuttered. "I said I'd move in with you and I assume we're going to be sleeping in the same bed." Her voice was shrill. "So why won't you make a move?"

He brought his palm to his chest and covered his heart. "Because it's you, and you're special, and you deserve my patience."

"I don't want to be special!" Emma decided. "It hurts to think that you'll never see me the way you saw Holly, or April, or your wife!" She bit the inside of her lip, and wished she was so much more for him. "You see them as sexy, and I'm just your friend who, if the time was right, you wouldn't say no to."

"That's crazy."

"Is it, Will?" Emma prompted angrily. "We've been sleeping in the same bed for three weeks and you won't even touch me."

Will released a heavy breath. "I was trying to be respectful."

"I don't want your respect," she hissed, and tears burnt her eyes. "I just want you to want me." Would they ever be able to move on? "If you don't, then losing my virginity isn't going to be fuelled with passion and promise, it's just going to be something we do because we've built up to it."

His eyelids fluttered. "You want passion?"

She pointed her finger at him, "I want you," she brought her finger to her chest, "...to want me!"

"You know I want you!" he groaned. "You're teasing me Emma!" he blamed, and Emma watched his jaw clench. "But this isn't about want!" he declared. "This is, and always has been, about your fascination with sex."

"It's not." She blinked twice.

"It is," he explained. "We've been in love with each other for too long and we've been dancing around each other so plainly. And it was fun and gentle and what made me fall so deeply in love with you. But now you've out grown that, and what you want is to...to go to bed with me." Her eyes widened. "You want me to touch you."

She shook her head and closed her eyes. Thank goodness they were both soft spoken. She couldn't deal with the people in the room next door listening in. "I don't know what I want when it comes to that!"

"Of course you know what you want!" he accused. "Don't pretend you haven't imagined what it would be like. I know you're not innocent."

"Nobody's ever wanted me enough to show me what it's like, so I wouldn't know!" Emma lied. "And touching my chest isn't exactly going all the way, Will!"

He shook his head. "Now you're making me angry, Emma." He looked it, too. She liked him angry. Angry led to initiative. She needed his initiative. The burning knot in her abdomen was desperate for Will's initiative. "Ken wanted you, Carl wanted you, and I want you." He could feel his ears burning with anger, resentment, arousal and embarrassment. "You and I were in that shower together last night. It wasn't easy for me to see you like that. You weren't blind to...to how...excited I was."

"Why would you want me?" she hissed with immaturity. "I'm just a virgin!"

He brought his hand to cover his lips in irritation, and he watched her run her hand through her hair. "Because you're just so..._god_, I don't even know what you are. You're cute and sweet and you play the innocent act, and at the end of the day, no matter how hard things get, you'll always support me. But...I just _know_."

Emma scoffed and pulled down on her sweater. "What do you know?"

"I know that you're selfish sometimes, and you'd do anything to have me," he realised. "And I don't mind...because you're so...beautiful."

Emma was shooting daggers. "Really?"

"It's difficult to be so close to someone so stunning, and know that they're craving intimacy, but not be able to do anything about it," Will confessed as he grasped the top of one of the end bed posts in his fist.

"I know the feeling," she whispered as he stepped around the bed. Closer to her. "What do you think you would do about it, you know, if you could?" she asked softly.

"Hypothetically?" Will asked with a distinct hint of annoyance.

She nodded. "Yeah, hypothetically."

"Well...I think I'd find a way to make you...her...feel really good." She could almost feel his body heat. "You know, better than other things she's done."

"Would you lie her down on the bed?" Emma seduced.

"Damn it, Emma!" Will cursed, frustration etched upon his features. "I don't want to play this anymore." He looked tired, and Emma bit her lip guiltily. "You want to ask questions?" he toyed, stepping closer to her. "Then ask me! Don't be a coward!"

"I'm not a coward!" she shrieked as she stepped backwards. "You're the one always saying we can forget the sex stuff!"

"Well I was wrong! We can't!" he whispered so sorrowfully. He was surrendering, his eyes clouded with a desperation that made her sweat.

He made her heart race.

He stood taller. Emma rested against the door and watched him.

He moved closer. Their gazes were deadlocked.

Staring. Gazing. Teasing.

She reached for him, her fingers grasping the cotton of his t-shirt over his abdomen.

His hands fell to her hips, and her body flushed with heat. She could feel his breath on her neck. Was he going to kiss her? Hug her? Hold her?

His fingers quickly worked the button and fly of her jeans, and her hips instinctively pushed into his palm.

The journey his fingers took into her panties barely registered in his mind. Pale skin he had written on a week ago. Soft curls he was certain were red. He had seen her naked in the shower the night before. Her beautiful body. He'd worship her. But he didn't see a thing at that moment, when Emma was pressed up against the door and his hand was down her pants. His eyes were locked on hers, and Will was oblivious to any colour other than the brown of her wide eyes.

His fingertips touched heat, and Emma sighed. Her body seemed to fall gently against the door, and Will bit back a groan.

He felt for it; the nub which would make her tense with arousal at just the slightest touch. When he found it, Emma gasped. Her eyes were darkened by hope. Lustful hope.

Their eyes met, and they realised what they were doing. He was touching her in a place so secret he wondered if she had ever touched herself that way.

He pulled his hand from touching her so intimately, and listened as the band of her cotton panties softly slapped her abdomen. She winced in disappointment. But he had more for her.

Will slipped his hand down between her panties and her jeans, and dared to trail a finger low. Emma moaned. She actually _moaned_, and Will watched her expression as her cheeks flushed pink. His fingers worked up, and down, and back up again. Emma shuddered. She whimpered. She struggled to find breath. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head. Her eyelids slipped closed. When she opened them, her pupils were dilated. Her hips bucked into Will's hand. She bent her knees slightly. She stood taller. Anything. She just wanted more.

"Does it make you feel insane?" he teased.

Emma's head fell back against the wall.

He could feel the sweat on her inner thighs on the skin of his fingers. The back of his hand was burning as it slid against denim, over and over again. His finger madly drew lines between her clothed folds. Up. Down. Up. Circles.

Her nerves were on fire. She was close.

A knock on the door behind her.

"Housekeeping!"

Will's finger paused between Emma's legs, and they both froze.

Her eyes widened, and their stare was panicked. Will glanced down to his trapped hand.

He worked his finger crazily over her nub, and Emma bit back a scream. Her flesh was burning in the most delightful way, and her fingernails dug into his shoulder blades.

"Stop..." Emma gasped, and Will's fingers ceased their exploration immediately.

A knock again. "Housekeeping!"

"One moment," Will called. It would only take a moment to finish what they had started.

But Emma was already buttoning up her jeans.

When she opened the door and began a conversation with the hostess, Will stepped into the bathroom to calm down. He hadn't even realised how aroused he had become, but the bulge in his jeans knew too much.

He sighed. The moment was over.

It was going to be a long day.

XXXX

They were both quiet as they drove to The Giant's Causeway.

Emma's heart absolutely throbbed. After their argument, she had finally discovered what he wanted. And with his long fingers in her pants, she realised she wanted the same thing, too.

The day was beautiful; cold, icy, but sunny. And The Causeway; Emma had never seen anything like it.

"It's almost frightening," Emma remarked as they walked the long, steep path down to the edge of the water.

They had seen chapels and cathedrals, hills and lakes. But nothing compared to the natural wonder that was The Giant's Causeway. Never had Will seen a place so spiritually divine. Columns of basalt rock stood tall against the ocean cliffs in the distance, and below the hill, they both spied smaller columns which were scattered in the shallow water.

Will finally felt at peace, and he grasped Emma's hand. He wouldn't change a thing. He had thought his dream ended when he left Broadway for Glee Club. He never realised another dream was already made for him, a fantasy that played unknowingly in his heart and not in his mind. _Sometimes,_ Will realised, _dreams aren't meant to be know. Sometimes they have to come to you, so that one day, you can go back to them. _

Emma pulled her coat around her body, and tightened the scarf around her neck. The weather was bitter against her soft skin, and she shivered. Will wrapped an arm around her, and she welcomed the warm weight.

And then he stopped to the side of the path, and pulled her to him.

She felt his warm breath on her cheek before he buried his face in her neck. His firm hands on her back felt comforting. She could never have travelled across the world without him.

"Thank you, Emma."

His whisper was soft. He was more than any other man she had ever known. He was everything she had never imagined. So delicate, so simply sensitive, and so remarkably strong.

She brought her fingers over his back, and held him to her. His woollen beanie scratched her forehead softly.

"It's okay, Will," she whispered. She could feel the eyes of passing tourists focused on them.

He pulled back and smiled widely.

They explored the spot together, reading signs and their information booklets to grasp an understanding of where they were and why they were there. They stepped over basalt rocks that lay by the seaside, and climbed rock structures with care.

They had walked all day, and by sunset, they found themselves by the shore again. The spot was almost bare of tourists, and those that remained were high on another hill. The place was clear of any nuances for Will's camera lens. Will captured the pictures he was so desperate for, and when he was finished, he turned to smile at Emma. But she was in another world.

She was gazing across the ocean, trying to see Scotland from the edge of the sea. The wind had picked up her red hair, and it flew around her face as her wide brown eyes strained.

"Will you marry me?" Will whispered.

Emma swivelled on the spot, and gazed up into Will's eyes. He was so handsome. And he loved her so deeply. At a proposal, for the very first time in her life, Emma didn't ask herself if she could do better. This was what she wanted. In a room full of doctors and lawyers, firemen and celebrities, she'd pick Will every time.

"Yes," she breathed. "I'll marry you."

He swallowed. "I don't have the ring with me."

She shook her head and her chin quivered with happiness. "That's okay, I-"

"Will you marry me right now?" he rephrased hastily.

Her eyes widened, and she turned to look for some sort of set up. Nobody was there. Just Will. Will with his watchful and hopeful gaze. To be his wife at that moment? Was it too much to ask?

"I married a man last year on a crazy impulse, and-"

Will chuckled. "I don't have a priest or papers, Emma." He stuffed his hands into his pockets. "It's obviously not legal, or a wedding." Emma read his eyes. There was so much more to know. "We've done the wedding separately. Can we have the marriage together?" She seemed to float out of her body. He kept her grounded. "Will you let me be your husband?" he whispered above the wind.

She left his gaze for a moment and glanced across the sea. Across water and nothingness. Everything was standing beside her.

She turned her head and looked into his eyes.

"I vow to love you forever," Emma promised, her southern drawl strong as her eyes brimmed with tears.

"I promise to be faithful to you, Emma." He reached for her hand. "I'll only ever want you." Words seemed to escape her. She parted her lips. She closed them again.

"Do you have anything else to add?" Will chuckled, and Emma's heart soared.

She blushed and glanced down. "I'm going to kiss you now," Will grinned.

His warm palm rested on her cold cheek, and when his lips touched hers, she felt life breathed into her.

Her lips parted against his, and his murmur of "I love you" was met with hers. She could feel his flesh against her own, and it warmed her blood. He tasted like coffee and butterscotch. Delicious. She wanted more. She always wanted more. And now she would be able to tell him, because he was he husband, and she never wanted any secrets in their marriage.

He ran his tongue along hers. Wet. Warm. So easy. They had everything. They didn't need to be scared. When they arrived home, he'd marry her legally. A wedding with his parents and hers, the glee kids and maybe even Sue. None of it mattered. They were bound together. He'd just married the love of his life where it all ended and began.

Emma gasped, and searched for words. "Please don't stop kissing me," she whispered, desperately afraid of deprivation.

His fingers raked into her hair, her auburn waves that allowed him to spot her from a distance. Hair that had haunted many of his dreams.

He curled her body into him, and wished to feel her heartbeat against his. But their heavy coats kept them apart. _Soon_, Will thought. _Soon you'll get to feel her heartbeat against yours. Her small breasts pressed against your chest. It will be so warm when you're together._

Their kissing soon ceased, and lightness began to seep away into night. They made their way back to the top of the cliff, and giddily drove to the bed and breakfast. They were shy with each other, the enormity of what had happened not quite sinking in. They had married. Silly, perhaps. But so romantic and more profound than the certainty that any law could determine. A promise. And that's what marriage was, wasn't it? She was somebody's wife again. She was Will's wife for the very first time. And he was her husband.

They ate dinner at the bed and breakfast, and blushed over the dim lighting of the small restaurant. It was a lovely home cooked meal, and they held hands as they picked at carrots and potatoes.

And then Emma realised.

It was her wedding night. Well, there hadn't been a wedding as such. But it was her first night as Will's bride. Their relationship was irrevocably altered. _Would they consummate their promise in the rackety brass bed upstairs? _She panicked with trepid excitement.

Will hadn't thought about it. All he could think was that there was a ring upstairs with her name on it, a distinct resemblance to her grandmother's ring. He wanted to put it on her finger. He wanted to see the small circle shining from her hand. The same hand that had held his all night.

They were married.

XXXX

When he followed her up the carpeted stairs after dinner, she felt his eyes lingering on her body. Three steps behind, and his gaze was fixated on her behind, the way her hips swayed in the tight black denim.

He carried her coat for her, and pushed open their bedroom door after she unlocked it.

The wind was wild against the frosted glass of the window. Howling. Smashing against the stubborn glass. A lamp flickered in the corner of the room. Emma stood, and took it all in. _Our very own love nest. _

When she turned, Will was unzipping his suitcase._ The ring, _she realised._ He's going to put the ring on my finger and then it's decided. There's no turning back. Not that there is now. _

He stood nervously, and opened the ring box. He peered inside, and his expression was one of surprise, as though he hadn't expected to find the pearl encased in white gold. The box wasn't empty.

She gazed lovingly at his expression. So hopeful. In love. Peaceful, calm Will. She hoped she'd never break his heart.

When he looked up, he met her stare.

His eyes were on fire.

XXXX

_**AN:**_ _I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thank you so much to everyone who reviews. It's really kind, and I appreciate every word. Happy Halloween!_


	9. Chapter 9

"I...umm...I think I need to sit down," Emma whispered. His eyes were dark, crazy. She almost lost all feeling in her legs as she stared into his hazel orbs. The ring box looked odd in his hand, and he held it so awkwardly that the sight clouded her mind.

Emma felt around for the bed, her hands outstretched, her mind foggy in the dim lighting of the room. Expectation was resting upon her shoulders, a weight she had never anticipated. _God. Her wedding night._ She had no idea what she was doing. She wasn't confident or prepared. She didn't have anything sexy to wear for him. _Did Will have protection? Will anyone hear them, or know what they're doing together in the room, all alone?_

As her fingers gripped the edge of the mattress, Will sat down beside her, and his expression softened.

"Are you okay?" he asked in a gentle whisper.

"Yeah." She wrung her hands together nervously, her palms beginning to sweat. "I just need a minute."

He glanced at her, and took in her flushed expression. She looked dazed, frazzled. All she needed was his patience. "Okay."

A long moment passed, and Will waited. He was so hungry for her, his body wired with anticipation. But Emma's breathing was shallow and uneven. And they hadn't done anything. He guessed she had never experienced anything remotely close to the sensations love making induced. The build-up, the expectation. Her gasps of pleasure when his fingers had ventured into her hot panties that morning had been love notes of shock and surprise. She really had no idea.

"This is really happening, isn't it?" Emma whispered, trying desperately to sort through her emotions. Her soft, southern drawl melted into the quietness of the room. "I mean, tomorrow morning I'm going to wake up, and I'll be your wife..."

He shook his head. "You're already my wife."

"Not legally," Emma corrected with raised eyebrows.

Will reached for Emma's hand, and covered it with his own upon the mattress. "It won't be legal until we get back home."

She smiled softly. She was tired. It had been a long day. "I don't mean legal in terms of signing papers, Will." His fingers spread hers upon the mattress, and their bones webbed together. "And I'm already home."

His heart was susceptible to honesty; his mind would harbour a ruining diathesis if he kept his feelings bottled up. "I have a confession to make."

She turned her head to meet his gaze. "Yes?" In her peripheral vision she spotted the ring box beside his thigh on the bed. A ring that he was waiting to put on her finger.

"You know how you found those pictures on my camera? The ones of you?" Will reminded Emma.

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. "Yes?"

He swallowed. "Sometimes, at night...most nights of this trip, actually...I take the camera into the bathroom with me. I just sit on the edge of the bathtub and flick through them." He felt entirely vulnerable, and she could read it in his eyes. She was selfish to appreciate his sensitivity, but it helped her to cope. "I just sit and stare at how beautiful you are. How beautiful you were that day...whatever we did the day the photo was taken. I see how happy you were. And while I scroll through the photos, I can hear you on the other side of the door. I can hear you laughing at the TV, or reorganising your suitcase for the thousandth time." His heart bled a deafening, completely rendering pain for his past self, and he attempted to hide it by not touching her, by not being entirely honest. "It sounds creepy." He shook his head. "I'm sorry."

Emma stood from the edge of the mattress, and made her way over to the corner of the room, to the backpack they had taken with them that day. She unzipped the black bag and pulled the camera out.

Will raised his eyebrows, his expression quizzical as she turned back to him.

"I want you to take a photo of me," Emma confided, the words rushing from her lips. "On our wedding night."

She released a deep breath, and Will swooned.

She dropped the camera into his grasp, and walked past him, to the head of the bed. He sat without turning, listening as she removed her boots. He heard one heel clunk to the floor. The other. There was ruffling, and Will sat gazing into space. He thought about the photos. He thought about the night he had massaged her chest. He replayed the sounds she had made when he touched her.

The bed posts creaked, and Will felt the mattress shift. When the blankets pulled slightly beneath him, he realised she was getting into bed.

He swallowed.

Outside he could hear a siren blaring in the distance. Emma was behind him, in bed. Was she naked? Had she been undressing as he sat and stared into space?

The siren neared, driving closer, and it registered in the recesses of his mind. Will collected his thoughts. A woman he had lusted after for so long was finally ready. Will stood and forgot the ring box beside him as he flicked the camera on. _Turn around, you fumbling idiot,_ he cursed himself. _She's waiting for you. She's being so daring._

"Are you coming to bed?"she purred, a hint of caution escaping from her lips.

He gulped. What if he disappointed her? If he couldn't hold out long enough? What if he frightened her beyond all belief?

The siren was loud, blasting, and quickly, the dim lighting of the room was illuminated in red and blue. Will speedily stepped over to the window and glanced down to the ground outside. He watched as the ambulance pulled into the driveway below. The room spun with red and blue.

He could hear Emma mumbling and fumbling behind him. He grasped the edge of the window sill and refused to turn around. Frustration consumed him. How could they possibly make love with all of the commotion interrupting them?

"I wonder what happened," Will supposed, searching for anything to say. They had been so close. "Maybe I should go downstairs and see if I can help with anything."

When he turned his head to glance her way, he could see the disappointment etched upon her expression as she redid the top buttons to her blouse. "I'll come with you," she whispered, attempting to cast the desire from her eyes.

"No, I'm fine. You just stay here and...umm... get comfortable," Will trailed off.

It was an hour before Will returned. Emma went downstairs to find him after he was gone for twenty minutes, but he was nowhere to be seen. She stepped into the closed restaurant, out onto the cottage porch. When she looked to the driveway outside, as she had seen from their room, the ambulance was definitely gone. She asked the host if he had spotted Will, and he noted that Will had asked where the nearest convenience store was half an hour before. And that was when she realised - Will had gone to buy protection.

She padded up the stairs softly. The darkness of the room greeted her, and for a moment, she pondered what it would have been like to travel alone. To be lonely, always.

The small lamp on the table by the bed softly illuminated the room. Emma looked around. When he came back, the moment would be over. It was silly of them to make love when it was past midnight, after all of the disorder. It would lack passion, Emma assumed. Safer without passion, she corrected herself. _But you need his longing_.

There was the ring box. Where he had left it on the bed. She seemed to float above her body, watching from above as she crept around the bed and reached for the box. She flipped the lid, and appreciated the fine cut of the small diamonds, the gorgeous pearl that drew such attention from its confinement. A beautiful ring. The perfect ring. His heart was so kind, so generous. He'd love her, he'd love their children.

Emma slipped the ring onto her finger. Loose. She'd have to get it adjusted when they got home. But it was near perfect. The only ring that had ever looked right on her long, delicate fingers.

She stepped over to the window and looked out. Will still hadn't returned. She undressed again, peeling off the layers of clothes down to her underwear, the weight of the ring reminding her that he'd come home and climb into bed with her. He'd have intentions; of course he would, he'd gone to buy protection.

She wanted to, she kept telling herself. But with a final look outside, and no car, she climbed into bed. It was late. The moment was lost. _It doesn't have to be tonight. _

She was oblivious to the fact that she was making excuses for herself.

And then the noises began.

Soft mews from the room next door. She stilled, and listened, she neck was stiff on the pillow. Whimpers and grunts. The couple next door were making love.

Her body was rigid in the bed. There was no way she could handle such pleasure. Her body hummed with confusion as ladylike whimpers form the room next door became moans and curses. What if that was who she would become in the throes of passion? A woman so changed and excited? Could she let Will see her like that? So vulnerable and aroused?

Red headlights were visible through the reflection of the bathroom mirror, but Emma never saw them. Instead, she heard ecstasy explode from the room next door. And then silence.

It had been fast, Emma contemplated. Fast and loud.

The key turned in the lock, and Emma rolled over to greet Will. His figure was tense. He was tall. She felt so small lying in bed as the low lighting cast his long shadow across the cream duvet.

"Hey," she called softly as he closed the door behind him.

"Sorry I took so long. I was umm...talking to the host downstairs," he lied softly, a blush warming his cheeks. "One of the elderly guests had chest pain. That's why the ambulance was here."

She watched as he set the small bag in his grasp down quickly.

"Uh-huh." Emma bit her lip, and sat up in the bed. He caught a flash of lilac satin covering her chest, but he turned his gaze away. "That's fine," she whispered.

He plonked himself down in the loveseat in the corner of the room. Regret was etched upon his features, and she gazed at him, feeling the weight of the covers rest against her abdomen.

She stared at him. He stared at her. They both shared a silent acknowledgement. It was troubling, knowing that she wasn't ready. He had married such a confused woman. His stunning, adorable best friend who was half naked in their bed, biting her lip so seductively.

"I'm sorry tonight wasn't what you wanted it to be," he mumbled sympathetically.

"It's okay, Will." Her stare radiated such innocence that his desire to teach her everything he knew erupted in his blood. He got up and crawled onto the bed.

"I know how much you wanted this," she confided as he knelt before her and gathered her hands into his. She felt his gaze fall to her satin covered breasts, and quickly trail back up to meet her stare. Her breast looked so soft, so perfect. Emma sighed. "It isn't your fault, Will."

"It's still our wedding night," he whispered quickly, his suggestive tone causing her bones to lock with trepidation.

He felt her whole body tense before him, the sensation of her fingers trembling in his. She was frightened to be with him.

"We don't have to..."Will whispered. "It's okay."

She drew her hands from his and covered her flushed face. "I'm sorry. I was just so prepared earlier today, and now I've relaxed and had time to get used to the idea that I don't have to make love tonight, I just haven't prepared to-

He pulled back. "What did you just say?"

"I said I haven't prepared to-

"Before that...you said you didn't have to make love tonight."

"Yeah, I-"

Pain flickered through his eyes. "Emma we never _have_ to make love..."

Her eyes widened and she shook her head wildly. "That's not what I meant, Will." She drew a deep breath. "It's just that...I know it's going to take a lot more out of me than it will of you. There are two parts of me, one telling the truth, that I want this. The other possesses me, and although it's slowly dying and I'm doing my very best to fight it, it's still there."Oh, how he needed her to fight for him. "That's the part that makes me _have_ to do this- to make love to you- because I need to do this for me." She held his hands tighter in her own. "Making love to you will never be a chore."

Her eyes burned with tears. He swallowed. Would he ever be enough for her? As the thought raced through his mind, she contemplated whether she would ever be able to sate the fire in his eyes. Would they always be desperate to make love? To share themselves in such delicate ways that were now so simple to them? When they had a family of their own, would the blaze burn to ashes?

His lips graced hers, and the sensation warmed her body.

Emma almost ripped his thick coat from his torso as he breathed heavily into her mouth. They panted, and his cold hands flew to her naked skin. He felt her all over, and when his hand gripped her between her legs, feeling her heat through satin panties, she gasped.

When he was naked, he carried her to the bathroom and flicked the light on. He tore her underwear from her small frame. Their kisses were long, fuelled and unfocused. She choked on each breath, and was glad to be free from his gaze. He was frighteningly intense.

When the too-hot water saturated her hair and ran over the naked arch of her back, he pushed her against tile, and slowly, they fell to the cold floor. Limbs wrapped tightly around each other as they rested together in a tangle.

His lips tasted water and her skin, so smooth. He lapped at the texture beneath his tongue. She was his. Emma Pillsbury was his wife. No longer would he have to pretend.

He didn't hear her whispers of love over the spray of the shower, and with his face buried in her neck, he didn't see the tears of bewilderment travel over her cheeks. But he did feel her shaky hand reach for him between their bodies.

Her grip was soft on his arousal, trembling. They were pressed together so tightly. It felt extraordinary, delicate, and with the reassurance of not having to witness the confusion in her eyes, he let her touch him.

Memories of her first wedding night with Carl crashed through her mind. Guilt suffocated her. How could she give so much?

She ignored the voices in her mind, especially the wise one that old her to look into Will's eyes to find comfort as she learnt how to pleasure her husband. But she decided she needed to do this for herself.

Emma blindly guided Will's twitching, swollen arousal to her entrance. He couldn't stop her.

Her gaze was focused on the shower curtain behind his back. The shower wall fell grimy on her naked back. The tile felt slippery beneath her bottom. She worried about the weight of her thighs upon his as they sat cross-legged on the floor, their legs wrapped around each other. She could feel his heels against the base of her spine, pressing harder as her fingers massaged his hardness.

He didn't realise how her mind raced with distractions. They were so close, and his mind was foggy.

His tip felt warmth, and the promise was too great. He pushed, ever so slightly, but before he could press into her, she gasped a howl and collapsed her tense body against him.

Her forehead wrinkled against the soft skin between his shoulder and neck. He wrapped his arms around her completely, feeling the swell of her tiny breasts pressed against his chest.

He pulled his lower half away from her warmth, barely captured inside of her before she had cried out in distress. She clung to him as she cried. He felt her ache, knew how close she was to finally giving in. But she needed this; to cleanse herself of her past reluctance before she could commit. He had already made a promise on a cliff earlier that day. She was yet to make her own.

She needed comfort.

He needed reason.

Will realised he could feel the smoothness of her wedding ring pressing into his neck. She had put it on.

And at that moment, as Emma wept, it was enough.

XXXX

"Mom, I really don't have time to go into detail about the last few days, but-

Will could hear Emma's voice trailing from the gap beneath the glass door of the phone box. He leant against the side, staring in at his wife as her lips parted and closed in conversation, her brow creased in frustration. She held the payphone in her hand tightly, and Will dreaded the day they returned to Lima and she'd call her mother to tell the truth about what had happened.

They were on their way to Dublin that morning, the final stop of their trip. Three nights in Dublin and then it would all be over. She'd be going home a changed woman, a virgin or a lover.

But Emma had plans. After the previous night, she'd made a promise to herself. And she was adamant about keeping it.

"So, like I said, just call Will's cell if you need me, because I don't know if I'll be able to buy a new charger within the next few days..."

Their gazes met through the glass and Will smiled a goofy grin. Emma blushed. She tried to ignore his wink, attempted to focus on her mother's voice. But as the glass door behind her opened, and Will stepped into the small space only made for one, _uh-huh's_ and _mmhm's_, only escaped her lips. His hands were warm on her abdomen as he stroked the wool on her coat, pulling her frame against his front.

"I know. It was very silly of me to leave my charger behind." She felt his soft fingertips part her scarf at the back of her neck, in a frantic search for bare skin, and heat coursed through her blood. Will nibbled on her neck, softly, hungrily. "I was kind of distracted, Mom." Emma peered around to see if any other drivers had stopped in the parking lot, if families with children could see the pair pressed against one another in the phone box- the desperate newlyweds who were yet to consummate their marriage.

Will could hear Emma's mother's voice scolding his wife through the speaker. No wonder Emma put such pressure on herself. He'd find a way to relieve her distress- if she'd let him. He brushed freckles with his tongue. Her body shuddered. It was simple, low, when Will whispered in Emma's ear, "I bet I can come up with another distraction."

Emma swallowed. Would she ever be ready to _really_ talk about how she felt? To do the things she _truly_ wanted to do? To say the things she _desperately_ needed to say?

He felt her body tense, and slowly, his possessive grip on her loosened. He didn't want her to know that he knew exactly what was going on in her mind; her inner struggle to not be so perfect.

They drove barely three miles before it began to rain, and in minutes, the quickly charcoaling clouds tricked that it was midnight, for the sky darkened as rain pelted against their windshield.

Emma suggested they pull over and wait out the storm. When Will hesitated and insisted it was okay, Emma reached for the bottle of hand sanitiser in her small purse, obviously anxious. He immediately pulled over and parked the car in a vacant shoulder of the road. How different they were. For the glee coach, three drops of hand sanitiser was a greater threat than the harsh rain that blurred his vision. For the redhead, those three puddles on her palm were the calm in the dangerous storm.

"Should we eat lunch while we're waiting?" Emma suggested as she leant into the backseat to get their lunch from the backpack. She bent her arm between the passenger and driver seat, reaching around in a blind search for their backpack. When she turned, she realised it was out of reach.

"Don't worry, we can get it when we stop," he murmured, his focus trained on attempting to reset the GPS on the dashboard.

"No, it's okay, I'll get it."

"You can't reach-

He paid barely any attention as she undid her seatbelt and reached around. But as he leant forward to press the touch screen, her knee gently brushed his thigh in her search for balance. She was in another world, half of her body in the front seat and the other half in the backseat. She muttered to herself as he listened to the zip of their backpack- and trained his focus between the seats.

Her back was arched, her round behind almost resting beside his face. He blushed, and felt his heartbeat hammer. A grown man, a teacher, a divorcee, a married man; _he blushed_. Like a school boy. Her jeans were tight, and the more he watched as she shifted and squirmed in search of something to eat, the tighter his jeans became and the hungrier his lust grew.

Will closed his eyes. He gulped. When he reopened his eyes, she was still there, her body before his eyes. Her gorgeous, beautiful body that made his heart sing. He needed so much from her. He wanted so much for her. Would he ever be able to fill the expectations she had print to her heart the day they met in the teacher's lounge?

When he began to turn, he shifted his gaze away. He felt guilty. Did she objectify him as he objectified her? Was her mind as clean as the mirror in her bathroom that pointed out the imperfections she was desperate to amend? Emma wanted to beautify each surface of existence. She was a clean soul; but how dirty was her conscience?

"I'm sorry I freaked out on you last night," she apologised as they nibbled on chicken sandwiches. She fixed her gaze on her lap. "I hope you aren't having any regrets."

He shrugged, and tried to meet her gaze. "You were upset," he forgave willingly, as any noble person would. She was quiet. Reserved. During the day she was always softer, less concentrated. "And I would marry you a thousand times, even if each and every marriage transcended all horror," he joked.

Emma laughed. Her eyes lit up as she licked her lips and stared into his expression. "That's actually really sweet."

Will swallowed.

"I hope this doesn't sound arrogant," he warned. "But I didn't want to make love to you in the shower last night." The lump in his throat disappeared as he spoke the truth that had cursed them all morning. "In a way, I'm very thankful that you freaked out."

The rain softened against the windshield, and Emma felt calmer, stronger.

"Do you think we'll consummate our marriage tonight, Will?"

He sighed.

"We'll consummate our marriage when you're ready," he defined, almost teaching himself the guidelines for being married to somebody as sensitive as Emma. "No sooner." _As beautiful and alluring she is, don't give in until her eyes shine with a darkness you've never seen before._

She paused and collected her thoughts.

"When we get to Dublin, I want to stay in the room."

He shrugged nonchalantly in an act, but he knew what she meant. She couldn't know that he knew. She would put the pieces together, suspect he had expectations. That he couldn't stop his aroused mind from mulling over what it would be like to be inside her. The warmth and tightness of Emma. _Fuck_.

He coughed and looked out at the road ahead, watching as cars flew by their parked car, spraying puddles against their doors. "Well, it is storming, so maybe we could just have dinner at the bed and breakfast tonight, and then-

"No, I mean...this afternoon. When we get there I want to..." she stammered and felt the blush on her sternum. "I want to..."

He bit his tongue to keep from grinning. "What?" _What? Think of what _she'll_ be like; how she'll moan and whimper and squirm. You'll make her writhe. _

She met his gaze. "I want to spend the afternoon in the room." Her voice was coarse.

Excitement froze him, sent a delightful cramp through his muscles. "No pressure, Em."

She looked down to her lap. "I'm ready to feel it, Will," she gushed, her whisper so soft and sweet. "I'm ready to open Pandora's box." Her cheeks were rose-tinted.

They were silent for a moment as he finished his sandwich. He turned the key in the ignition, and pulled back onto the highway.

He grinned softly, his eyes shining with beautiful expectation as he tried his best to focus on the road ahead, rather than the pride emanating from his wife's smile. "I'll try my best to distract you from the messiness," he promised.

He caught her stare for a second, and she thanked him with her gaze.

After a long bout of silence, he reached for the volume dial. In mid reach, her timid tone stopped him. "I've read about it," she mumbled softly. "I know there are ways to make it less messy, more traditional."

"You've read about repacking a suitcase?"

She blinked twice and watched her husband for a moment. "What?"

"This entire time I've been talking about spending the afternoon watching you rearrange my messy suitcase. What are you talking about?"

Emma grinned widely and blushed.

"Miss Pillsbury, are you talking about sex?" he gasped with a wide, knowing smile.

Will shook his head in mock horror and winked. He reached between the seats and grasped her hand in his.

"You won't be alone, Em. I'll be there with you."

Her breathing shook and she willed the tears in her eyes to vanish. There was too much passion. _Overwhelming_ passion. The need and want made her shake. Her heart was lodged in her throat.

"Promise you won't leave if things get too much?" she choked, attempting to downplay the tension that suffocated them. They were too special. She prayed to god they were ordinary, that they didn't have so much to lose. She'd die of such extreme craving; an obsession that discourses could never represent.

"I don't think I could."

_Soon, Will. Finally we'll be yearning together._

_XXXX_

_**AN: **__I'm sorry this has taken so long to be posted. Thank you to everyone who left reviews and ask messages. It does take up a lot of free time to sit down and devote your attention to writing, so it means a lot that some people take the time to leave a review. Have a lovely week, everyone, and I hope this chapter was an enjoyable read._


	10. Chapter 10

AN: This chapter is the last for this series. Thank you to all of the wonderful readers who have reviewed. It's so lovely to know that you enjoy reading each week. I'm not certain when the next fic will be published, but an intro is up on my profile for anyone interested in taking a look. Until next time!

XXX

The city of Dublin was huge, but their intentions were to get straight to the bed and breakfast. City roads were complicated, particularly when the navigation system cut out, but Emma directed Will and finally they arrived at their accommodation.

It was like coming full circle. They had explored so much land and experienced such intensity; the journey was almost coming to an end. Soon they would be returning home to Lima; to students, and snow, and Christmas. A new year, too.

The bed and breakfast was eerily quiet. They signed in under the Pillsbury name, and made their way to the end of the hall to room six. The Victorian style home was grand, vastly different to the cottages and motels they had stayed in. The walls appeared strong; the ceiling of their room was high. The size of the bed didn't occupy the entire suite.

"I can't stop touching it," she gushed, her gaze downcast. Placing the suitcases down by the window, Will turned to Emma, and took her in. His bride admiring her ring. She was so gracious and appreciative. He had only given her a ring; just a promise. He could barely provide a life for her back in Lima. But they'd work together; a real relationship of equals.

Her gaze was fixated on her ring, and he thought that she was oblivious to him as he stepped around the room and slowly pulled the shutters closed. But she wasn't oblivious to him. She watched lightness seep from their room as the walls were basked in a greyish glow of orange. She knew everything as her gaze focused on the pearl. She wasn't naive to the sexuality Will embodied, how desperate he was to just take her on the bed.

When she raised her gaze, he was watching her. So still, so reverend. Watching his wife.

"You look tense," he purred softly, and her chest heaved.

_He can feel what you feel._

"I'm sorry," she stammered. "You just," she cleared her throat, "...you're always watching me."

The lump in his throat was constricting. He was worried for her.

"Well," he gripped the corner of the dressing table behind him. "You're very special and I've never met anyone quite like you..." He smiled softly, and received a simple gaze of idolisation from Emma. "So I stare when I can."

She tilted her head, and listened to the sounds of traffic outside their window. The city outside. "You never stared before...when we were at home in Lima."

His face fell. "Yes, I did." She turned her gaze away, and considered how to make the first move. It had all seemed so simple that morning. But in the moment, their love seemed inexperienced and awkward in its desperation. He moved to sit on the mattress, and Emma waited.

Moments passed, and Emma considered the thought that Will was perhaps more nervous than she.

She'd make the first move. Be a temptress, a seductress. Will would like to see that. _He must get tired of the virgin guidelines, _she convinced herself.

"I'm going to change," she whispered, her tone taking on another personality.

He turned his head, and caught her stare. "I don't want you to change," Will told her as he patted the mattress beside him. "Sit next to me."

The mattress was soft beneath her, and she felt heavy. They sat together for a short while, their fingers mingling. She felt larger than life, too tall to live up to expectation. But when Will's fingers gently pried the coat from her body, and her jumper from her torso, she felt small, lightweight, a child. And she wasn't suffocating.

Will shifted their position on the bed with a smile and nod from his wife, and Emma felt as though she was relaxing in his arms. For moments, she was his puppet, and her body distressed. They sat cross-legged upon the neatly made bed, in the middle of the mattress, where they were alone. He rested behind Emma, the cream bedspread beneath them shifting as he scooted closer to her, and rested his hands on her shoulders. At his touch, she braced herself, and grasped the headboard in front of her.

Slowly, his fingers pressed into her tense frame, and her body relaxed. He ran his fingers and palms over her petite frame, learning the curve of her back and the way her body heat seeped from the lilac blouse she wore. Flimsy, almost transparent material, and he could almost imagine how her bare skin felt beneath.

Emma sighed and closed her eyes.

His hands were warm, large on her small frame. She felt the press of his thumbs in the curve of her lower back, and she smiled. He massaged away non-existent knots, and his touch felt magical, uplifting, miraculous.

Emma opened her eyes, and looked at the headboard before her.

She felt his hands slide across her hips, over her abdomen and up, up, up. She anticipated the feel of his warm, strong hands on her breasts, holding her gently and relieving her of the small weight. Instead, his fingers worked the buttons to her blouse, and open it fell before he removed it, along with her bra.

Still, he never touched her breasts, and she craved his touch, fantasised that his fingertips were softly pinching her nipples. Calloused fingertips on such soft skin.

Will buried his face in her neck. She smelt like berries and vanilla. He ran the tip of his tongue from the side of her collarbone to her ear lobe and whispered, "I don't want to sound like a sweet-talker, and I know how receptive you are to corniness, but I'm being very honest when I tell you that you're intoxicating."

His tongue was hot. Wet. She couldn't stop the racing of her heart or the fire igniting inside her, and she didn't want to. But she could, for the first time, stop the voices in her head that screamed it was disgusting and wrong to make animalistic love. And she wanted that more than she wanted to make love to Will.

"You think I judge you," she sighed as the tip of his tongue brushed her earlobe, "...but I know you're very romantic."

"I prefer sensitive," he mumbled proudly.

He bit her earlobe. She gasped lightly.

"You're not sensitive...you're romantic," she stuttered lovingly. "I'm sensitive," she whispered, a hint of shame ringing through her tone.

She listened to the uneven pace of his breathing, his pants and nibbles that were spreading desperation over her skin like a plague.

Goosebumps.

"You're tempting." His admittance came as his hands shot up to her chest, and groped her breasts roughly.

A strangled hum of shock escaped from Emma's lips.

He felt her tense slightly, and then relax as he massaged her. She was awakening. And she wasn't afraid.

"I don't want you to be scared...if I say things, truthful things...things about you that drive me crazy," he pleaded softly, a whisper against her ear.

She trembled in anticipation. "I won't be afraid."

When he bowed his head, his kisses on her smooth skin were soft. He pressed the warm flesh of his lips all over her forehead, in a moment of wildness that overtook him. "Neither will I."

Emma undressed Will slowly, marvelling at his build, a body she had seen in all its naked glory a number of times, but never truly pleasured. She wanted that for him, and as she slipped his briefs from his legs, she promised herself she would love him the way she wanted to; to see pleasure drip from his lovely features and know it was all her doing.

When they were bare, their chests heaving and hearts hammering, Emma scrambled beneath the covers with as much grace as she could muster. Will rested beside her, and as kisses became deeper and hotter, his hands wandered too far and he couldn't stop himself from climbing above her.

"This is so real..."she whispered as his lips closed around the arch of her throat. "You make me feel beautiful."

He moaned into a kiss, and her hips rose from the bed in surprise. "Shh," she mumbled, "In case someone hears us."

Will groaned. "Honey, it's a bed and breakfast. This is what people do in a bed and breakfast," he informed patiently, playfully running his fingers across her abdomen.

"Really?" she whispered, her eyes wide and her expression glowing such innocence.

He smiled softly, gently smoothing her hair back from her face. "Yes."

Her eyes screamed that she needed more, but she seemed to appreciate his gentleness.

He lowered his face into the crook of her neck and breathed her in. He'd never have to be alone again. The smell of Emma, the feel of Emma, the taste of Emma; her warm hold would always be his. His body relaxed as he felt the velvet skin of her thigh press against his. He was so safe.

"So all this time people have been assuming we've been making love?" Emma asked curiously, her fingernails slowly trailing over his shoulder blades, drawing invisible patterns. Such an experienced act for a virgin. _She understands,_ Will thought. _She knows how to be intimate. What you need to show her how to...how to...What on earth is there left for you to teach her?_

"I don't know how much they really thought about it," he chuckled. "But we have a lot to make up for."

Emma giggled.

He was gentle with his kisses, and slowly, as his kisses lowered, he would pull back to take in her expression. Always, Emma seemed content. Her eyelids would flutter, and he felt her body heave beneath his lips.

He pulled away from her, and granted her a moment's composure that he needed mostly for himself. She couldn't see his lower half beneath the covers, and he kept from pressing against her as best he could. He didn't want to frighten her. In certain moments, she was fragile.

But as Will pulled away, the blankets shifted and she saw him completely. His arousal was strong, and Emma swallowed at the logistics of the act. Will's gaze was downcast when she looked up to him, his own eyes blatantly focused on her calves, thighs, and what lay between them.

"Are you a leg man?" Emma asked with a blush when he refused to meet her gaze.

His eyes ran up her body, over his lips and to her eyes. A flash of seriousness washed over his features. His hand ran over her thigh, squeezing it softly before he drew his palm over her stomach and to her breast once more. He trapped a nipple between his fingertips, and brushed it softly.

"I'm your man."

He lowered his head and began sucking on her taut skin, his mind cloudy with the texture between his lips.

She was drowsy, too. His free hand slid all over her body, and she hummed with delight when he laid his fingers tightly between her legs, and ever so slowly, began to circle them. Her stomach muscles quivered. He pressed himself against her. His knuckles pressed into her, his fingers arching down onto her nub.

He adored her for minutes, coaxing her to bliss. She was quiet, controlled as her hips tilted in an innocent search for release.

And it came.

"Will..." she breathed in a desperate cry, and he brought his mouth to her chest.

Her fingers twisted in his curls, and he was surprised by the tight grip her hands fisted in his hair.

The tremors that wrecked her body were intense.

"I love doing that to you," Will smirked proudly, but his words were lost in the haze that confronted her. Aftershocks ran through her lower half, and she wondered if feeling would return to her legs, or if they were dead weights forever.

Will was insatiable. He laced kisses all over her body, and threw the sheets back to help Emma cool off. He kissed her sweat away, and ground against her, reminding her that there was more. There was always more.

She couldn't stop herself from writhing against him, and she refused to stop touching him when he reached for protection. She didn't mind when he laid upon her and rested himself upon her belly.

Their hands ran madly, holding onto each other as they searched for a comfortable position. Emma pressed against him for more.

When she felt him between her legs, his warm arousal pressing into the wetness between her thighs, her eyes widened.

But god, she wanted it. She could almost feel it. And she needed it.

She clasped her hands low over his back, and raised her head. She closed her mouth over his shoulder, and anticipated the pain that would come before pleasure. She pressed her palms into his tattoo, and urged him into her.

_Fuck. _

There were too many sensations for her body to register, so she ignored them all until one was ruler.

His hand supported her raised head, and she tried to relax against him.

Fullness. Not pleasure or pain. Fullness was king.

His lower lip trembled when she pulled back and sighed against the pillow.

And her smile relieved him completely. He closed his eyes, and she watched him as he moved within her.

"Finally," he breathed. He pushed in further, very slowly. "Ohh...finally."

Truthfully, he had never really entertained what it would feel like to be with Emma. He had imagined her aroused expressions, and toyed with possibilities of sounds she would make, or if she'd be completely silent. But feeling, physical _feeling_, he had never contemplated.

She was tight. Tight and hot and warm, and a virgin. He was her _first_. It was possessive, and he tried to disregard the notion. But each time he pressed into her, and drew out, he was reminded of the pressure that consumed him. A virgin. Sweet, soft, hot virgin Emma.

She tried to help him out. She raised and swivelled her hips, and he moaned and grunted.

Sweat broke out all over his body, and suddenly, he was clammy and needy. His hand fell to her lower back, and he tried to lift her against him to help her out. But she barely felt pleasure with Will holding himself so far from her, trying desperately to not overwhelm her. And she had read enough to know that he couldn't last. His face was painted with desperation and worry.

His thrusts were short and shallow, and she watched him as her nails dug into his inked skin.

When he opened his eyes, she tried to glance away.

"Why are you scared, Emma?" he panted, his tongue falling to lap at her breasts.

"I'm not..." she murmured, her hips rising to meet his thrusts. "I've just never felt..." she trailed off.

"You have," he grunted in earnest. She felt his abdominal muscles press against her own. "We both felt this so long ago." He raised his gaze, and swallowed deeply as he tried to slow his thrusts for her. "Emma, I-

She steadied his face in her palms. "No more talking."

Will fell complete fullness, heaviness, and so did Emma. His body was pressing her into the mattress, and she felt as though she was falling into a pit of truth and need.

He rested his face in her neck. She turned her head and looked into the mirror, saw him moving above her, his hand on her thigh, his lips on her neck. She looked away. She wanted to feel it. She had seen enough in the last month to make her only want to feel for the rest if her life.

She enjoyed the way she made Will convulse. She rejoiced in his shudders of pleasure, his pleas for her to come, although she knew she was spent long before they had started.

He shuddered above her, she was blissful in her realisation that he was young again, and she couldn't ever be the cause of his ageing. Her husband.

He kissed her and pulled back to take her in, hair wild and chest heaving. His sweat on her chest.

She smiled softly, and felt empowered.

"I'd like to have a bath, Will."

XXXX

They bathed together, in the wide tub filled with warm water. The afternoon was fading into night, and Emma watched the sunset over Will's shoulder as her naked back pressed against the end of the porcelain tub. Emma sat at one end, Will at the other, and he didn't watch the sunset. Instead, he watched Emma.

"Did you like it?" Will whispered, a grin slowly etching its way across his lips as her foot slowly ran over his calf beneath the water.

She blushed and brought her knees to her chest. "Yes."_ I can't wait to learn how to love you as you need to truly be loved. _He stretched his legs out, and rested them at her sides underwater. "Of course..." she hesitated for a moment and gathered her thoughts.

"It isn't all I made it out to be," Emma admitted. "It's about closeness, really," she carefully considered. "Being close to _you_."

Will tilted his head back against the rim of the bath, and Emma appreciated the way his damp curls stuck up every which way- her playful doing.

Will pressed his big toe against Emma's thigh, and smiled reassuringly. "You feel amazing. Every part of you."

They locked gazes, and Emma felt her body flush with confidence. Her life was before her, naked in a hotel tub.

They both lowered their gazes, and Emma felt the surface of the water swim around her breasts. She looked down through the transparent liquid to take in her nakedness. Her breasts that had once seemed too small were beautiful, her waistline not too thin and not too wide. She was perfect, and seeing herself in a new light caused her to blush.

When she looked up, Will was watching her. His playful grin was gone, and he appeared serious, dark. Like he wanted more. In time, she would give him all that she could, the parts of herself she wished to share.

As she gazed at him curiously, his features brightened, and the sun set behind him. "Do you want to get out of this tub and go and meet Dublin?" he asked.

Emma nodded and stood, but before she could step out of the tub or even reach for her towel, he grasped her hand.

"Kiss me."

She bent down, tilted her head, and kissed him, long and hard.

XXXX

The pub was alive with music and dance, the patrons fuelled with Irish brew, proud and enthusiastic to celebrate an ordinary night in the heart of Ireland. Will was proud, too.

He sat next to Emma on a bar chair, and just watched her. She was happy, her eyes alight and her cheeks flushed with bliss. She was taking it all in, the culture around her, the laughter and music. And Will loved her. He loved her so deeply that his body seemed to rush with excitement. He wanted it all. He wanted to give her everything. But it wasn't about that anymore, and slowly, they were both learning the reasons why.

She wasn't different. She was Emma. Her eyes were bright and large, her hair as red as ever, and her touch as sweet as safety. Will cursed his conscience for always waiting for her eyes to darken; for a lack of lightness to mean that she wanted more, that she'd be more passionate. The happiness that glowed from her face, as they danced and laughed in that Dublin pub, was irresistible; there was no longer a search for darkness, for he'd never find it in Emma Pillsbury's eyes.

And he'd make sure there was always a spotlight in Emma Schuester's eyes.

The wind was cold when they stepped outside. Their first night in Dublin had been incredibly enjoyable. They had sang and danced, and when he held her hands in his on the dance floor, he had touched the newly-discovered hum of her body, and felt it transpire in his bones.

"What?" Emma whispered, the corners of her lips upturned in an innocent smile as she slipped her hand into his.

"I'm just remembering how you looked today," he breathed in her ear. They stepped up to their rental car, and Will leant against the driver's door.

She bit her lip softly, and he watched her expression as she leant against the car, their shoulders brushing. "When?"

"When I was touching you this afternoon...making love to you..."

A blush warmed Emma's cheeks at the memory, and she pulled her cream coat tighter around her, adjusting her scarf as best she could. She remembered the sounds, the pride on Will's face as he coaxed and teased her. "I must have looked messy."

He shook his head slowly, and pushed himself off the car. She felt dizzy, and her body tingled with tension. He stood before Emma, and she gazed up at him. His eyes no longer looked pained, he seemed calmer than usual. "You looked sexy." He held her hand tighter in his, and brought it to rest on his chest. "Stunning." She could feel his heartbeat beneath her palm. "You were so astoundingly stunning."

Emma swallowed over the lump in her throat. They had made love, and yet, the lust had yet to dissolve. Never had she ever felt so liberated.

"I can't believe you're _my _husband."

Her words were laced with a drug that Will hoped they would one day detox from their lives. Expectation had no place in their marriage. Soon they would realise they were as good as one another, that they both deserved _everything_.

"I know," he breathed unevenly. "I can't believe I'm _your_ husband."

As they stared, Emma watched his hazel eyes begin to well with tears. Her beautiful, sensitive Will was still a boy.

His arm curled around her body, and he moved closer to her, remembering how it had felt to hold her naked in his arms hours before. He would forever crave such closeness.

"Take me home, Em," he breathed against her neck as he pressed her against the car.

She wound her fingers into his curls, and held his face against her skin. She felt his breath, warm and damp on her neck. Emma was enough for Will, and Will was enough for Emma. Finally, she had realised that she was what he craved, all that he desired.

"You're already home."


End file.
